


Queen of Hearts

by blueboxesandtrafficcones



Series: Queen of Hearts [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Matchmaker, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bill Potts (minor character), Clara Oswald (mentioned) - Freeform, F/M, Hallmark Movie AU, Jackie Tyler (minor character), Matchmaker AU, Matchmaking, Peri Brown (mentioned), Reinette Poisson (minor character), River Song (mentioned), Royal Matchmaker AU, Susan Foreman (minor character)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-06-25 02:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 38,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19736623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueboxesandtrafficcones/pseuds/blueboxesandtrafficcones
Summary: Thirty-year-old Rose Tyler’s matchmaking business is doing very well indeed, bringing her clients such as celebrities, athletes, and the now-happily-married son of the mayor.  All of which brings her to her newest client - one whose royal rank is a far cry above her own title as Queen of Hearts.Ian, King of Gallifrey, calls off his wedding four weeks before the happy day as he realizes he can’t spend another minute of his life with his betrothed.  The catch - he must take a wife before his Coronation, only a month away.  In desperation, his sister and aunt conspire to find him his happy ever after - and it’s going to take a master matchmaker to do it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! This is an AU of the Hallmark movie Royal Matchmaker - which is super cute and I highly recommend. Obviously I own nothing blah blah blah.
> 
> New chapters will be posted every Sunday. Many thanks to stupidsatsuma for beta'ing!

**_Saturday, March 30th_ **

Standing along the dance floor of the ballroom at the Ritz, Rose Tyler clapped harder than any other guest as the newlywed couple shared a kiss, still holding the cake-cutting knife. The groom, thirty-seven year old Adam Mitchell, had been Bad Wolf Matchmaking’s first client five years earlier. Rose had been the one to find him Sophie, and her happiness at their joy was matched only by their mothers’.

His happiness with Rose’s work was what put her on the map, slowly but steadily building a client base full of happy customers one introduction at a time. An endorsement from the Mayor’s son was second only to that of the Queen herself, and in some circles, even more powerful.

 _Another happily married couple_ , she thought with satisfaction, sipping from her champagne glass and watching them sway together, lost to the world. 

The mother of the groom came up next to her, gushing, “I don’t know _how_ you did it, but I’m so glad you did!”

Rose smiled, blushing slightly. “They were made for each other, I just introduced them,” she demurred.

“You underestimate your talents, Ms. Tyler,” Mrs. Mitchell disagree with a laugh. “My son is _very_ picky!”

“Oh, I know!”

Movement from the far side of the ballroom caught her eye, and after a moment of searching she spotted her assistant waving her over.

“I’m sorry, I have to-”

The mother of the groom waved her off, and she edged around the dancefloor to where Mel stood at their table. “What’s up?”

“Well done,” her friend toasted her with her own champagne. “They seem terribly happy.” Their glasses clinked together, the fine tinkling sound of expensive china one Rose never tired of hearing. It was a symbol to her of how she had made it, had clawed her way tooth and nail from being a chav on an Estate to being a guest at the same wedding as the Mayor.

“I’d like to think so.” Rose smiled, watching Adam teasingly smear cake over his bride’s mouth before kissing it away. “He deserves it – they both do.”

Mel hummed approvingly. “You know, they call you the Queen of Hearts.”

She did know that, but the concept was so foreign that she had to deflect. “Because heads roll when I don’t get my way? Is that a critique of my abilities as a boss?” she shot back teasingly, cheeks pinkening. “Come on, you know I don’t care about any of that. I promised myself that my main goal would always be to make others happy. As long as I’m doing that I’m satisfied, and if the business is doing well… that’s merely a plus.”

“Of course,” Mel mocked. “The fabulous reputation and business you’ve built mean nothing. You’re really Mother Theresa.”

Rose made a show of glancing around covertly before leaning in. “You want to know the truth?” she whispered.

Mel nodded, a skeptical eyebrow arched.

“It’s really all about the wedding cake.” She burst into laughter at her assistant’s exasperated sigh even as she accepted a slice from a waiter. “Thank you.” It was actually the _intricacy_ of the dessert she loved, seeing how it reflected the couple as a sign of how in tune they were. By now, she could judge the staying power of a marriage by details of the ceremony and decorations without even meeting the couple. In this case, it was a tasteful melding of two people’s desires, one that suggested they would last the course.

She was rarely wrong.

“Why do I put up with you?” Mel asked rhetorically, taking her own and digging in. “Nothing better to do on a Saturday night, I suppose.”

“See?” Rose pointed her fork at her. “Stick with me kid, and you’ll be set.”

Mel shook her head, laughing. “I’m only a year younger than you! And should be making bank in Silicon Valley, thank you.”

“Oh, come on! What nobler profession is there than helping people find true love and happiness? Without it, the world is liable to stop turning.”

“As a realist, I have to disagree there,” Mel said sternly, before grinning. “But as a fellow romantic, I wholeheartedly concur. I just wish I could find _you_ somebody. I’m no good at the actual ‘matchmaking’, just the statistics and managing our software,” she lamented.

“You’re better than you think you are,” Rose reassured her, setting down her empty plate at their table and grabbing her purse and jacket. “That’s why we’re such a good team. You help me sort through the Wrongs to find Miss, or Mister, Right. I couldn’t do it on my own. Now, I have a very important appointment, so I’ve got to run, but you stay and have fun.”

Mel sat at her own spot, still finishing off her slice with one hand as she pulled out her mobile with the other, likely to text her boyfriend she would soon be leaving. “Hot date? Please say yes.”

“I do, as a matter of fact. Tall, handsome, rich.” Rose pulled her hair out from her collar, fighting back a smirk as Mel’s face went from excitement to exasperation. After seven years of friendship and working together, the other woman knew her too well.

“Sure, of course, leave the beautiful wedding with lots of handsome, single blokes to read _Pride & Prejudice_ for the thousandth bloody time. I don’t understand you, honestly. Doesn’t the Mayor have another son?”

Rose threw her head back laughing; they’d had some variation of this discussion a thousand times. “Where’s the fun in life without a little mystery?”

“You’ve dedicated your life to finding love for everyone else – when will you start searching for yourself?”

“Like we tell every potential client – true love will come when you’re ready, and you just have to be open to it. It can be found in the strangest of places; all you have to do is look. I’m not looking right now.”

Leaving Mel sighing and rolling her eyes, Rose slipped out of the ballroom, thinking about the warm bath that awaited her.

_What more could someone need to come home to?_

* * *

Bursting out into the fresh air, Rose beamed at the first hint of spring. Birds were chirping, the sun breaking through in spots, and forgoing a cab she started down the pavement on foot. Spring was her favorite season – to her it always symbolized new birth, a fresh start, and not just because it meant her birthday was close. Spring meant the chill of winter was behind them; the daylight hours were lengthening, flowers on the cusp of blooming.

It was also, coincidentally, the end of the post-holiday slump for business as people emerged from their hibernations and sought a new partner to enjoy the improving weather with.

Spring meant _possibility_.

She only made it ten or so steps down the sidewalk before giggling behind her caught her attention, and she glanced over her shoulder to see three preteens huddled together beneath the hotel entrance awning and watching her. “Hi?”

“Are you the matchmaker lady?” the taller of the two girls blurted, blushing as her friends tittered.

“I am.” She turned back to them, sticking her hands in her pockets as she approached. Her ‘hot date’ was one of her own making, and she had all the time in the world.

The second girl, a brunette to her friend’s blonde, elbowed the first girl. “This is Farrah, she’s got a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you ever take teenagers as clients?” The blonde, Farrah, blushed harder, and Rose swallowed a laugh.

“You’re a little young for that, aren’t you? Tell you what, what’s the situation?”

The youngest, a boy, spoke up, and was clearly a brother to the brunette. “She likes a boy who doesn’t know she exists!”

Rose did laugh at that, shaking her head. “I’m sure he does, but you’re trying to catch his eye?”

The brunette nodded eagerly. “There’s a spring dance in a few weeks, and she wants him to ask her!”

She hummed in thought for a moment. “Are you in any classes together? You could ask him to study with you.”

The three burst into giggles again, the blonde smiling shyly. “That’s awesome! Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome sweetie, good luck!” With a final smile for the teens she continued heading for home, taking in the bustle of the city she loved.

_If only it were always that easy…_

* * *

**_Sunday, March 31st_ **

Ian, King of Gallifrey, had never been more pleased in his life to be on a conference call than he was when his sister stormed into his office, Sarah Jane trailing helplessly behind, powerless to stop the Princess Royal from doing… anything.

Shrugging innocently in the face of her wrath, he pointed to the desktop phone he was using to indicate that he was busy. To his dismay, she merely crossed her arms and glowered across the desk, not even bothering to sit.

He groaned softly as he recognized the writing on the wall, quickly and skillfully wrapping the conversation up within a minute – the longer Donna steamed, the worse it would be. Waving Sarah off, he bit the bullet.

“What?”

“What?!” Donna bellowed, and he was ashamed that he jumped.

“Donna-”

“Don’t _what_ me,” she roared, “what the hell did you do? You screwed the pooch, that’s what you did! Not only did you screw it, you fucked it to death! The pooch is dead!”

Rising from his chair he came around the desk against his better judgement, glancing nervously towards the door and thinking wistfully of his bodyguards – of course, they were terrified of her too. Not that he’d ever seen her this mad before. “I don’t understand-”

“You don’t understand?!” Donna’s eyes flashed. “ _I_ don’t understand! I just went to get my future sister-in-law for a dress fitting – only to find out _she’s not here anymore_!”

“Ah, that,” he played dumb, as if he hadn’t been bracing himself for this. “Yeah, I sacked her. I mean, she’s gone. The wedding’s off.”

“Why is the wedding off?” she screeched.

The short fuse on his temper was quickly fraying, and he endeavored to soothe her before they ended up fighting in earnest. “Donna, you need to shut up and calm down. I can’t talk to you like this.”

She lunged for him, snarling like a wounded animal, and he caught her by the shoulders. “Start bloody talking right _fucking_ now, Ian Reginald.”

“Sit down.” Ian forced her down onto one of the visitor chairs in front of his desk, making sure she would stay before taking the other seat. “Now, shut up and listen. I called it off yesterday after I caught her berating Luke. I’m sorry, but that woman will not be the Queen of Gallifrey, nor the mother of my children. I don’t see why we’re going through with any of this, and I can’t just abdicate now in favor of you. Everyone would be much happier that way.”

His sister huffed, still clearly displeased, but she no longer looked ready to breathe fire and he considered that a win. “I know she wasn’t… _ideal_ -” she gave him a warning look when he snorted- “but we’re quickly running out of time. You’re the son, Ian- _you_ are king. You can’t run away from that any longer, I won’t allow it. This isn’t what I want for me, or Lee and the kids. At Lungbarrow House we have a _chance_ of keeping them normal; I don’t want them growing up in the palace being treated like little gods as we were. I may have accepted I might succeed you, but it for damn sure won’t be for a lack of trying not to on my part.”

“She was awful,” he said plaintively, “not fit at all. The Queen must rule by diplomacy and grace; not by barking orders and flirting with every man she meets.” He raised his eyebrow, but the censure went over her head.

“That still leaves us without a queen five weeks before the Coronation. This morning Rassilon suggested I be fitted for the regalia as well, ‘just in case’.”

Ian flapped a hand dismissively. “I’ll figure it out.” He had no idea how, but something would come to him; it usually did.

Donna pursed her lips. “I don’t think you can fly by the seat of your pants on this one.”

“All I need is a little faith. And time.”

His sister took the dismissal for what it was, graciously rising and giving a slight curtsey he knew was mostly to make a point. “Fine. By you’ll understand if I don’t just sit idly by.” She paused at the door, glancing over her shoulder. “Maybe you should start mentally acclimating to the idea of _you_ bowing to _me_.”

Ian stayed where he was long after she left, staring at the ceiling and contemplating his options, feeling the oppressive weight of duty slowly choke him like a noose.

_What am I going to do?_

* * *

**_Monday, April 1st_ **

Rose walked to work the following Monday, reveling in another beautiful morning. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and she had a good feeling about the day. _The perfect morning for a new beginning._

Letting herself into the office space she rented for Bad Wolf Matchmaking, she hummed to herself as she moved towards her office. Waving _good morning_ to Mel who was already at her desk on the phone, she let herself into her private sanctuary, pausing in the doorway as she did every morning to take a moment and appreciate what she had built. For an Estate girl raised by a widowed mother, she had changed her predicted future through hard work and a refusal to accept anything less.

Hanging her coat on the hook and putting her purse in a drawer, she settled at her desk and logged into her email. Pictures from Saturday’s wedding were the first thing she opened, taking a few minutes to _ooh_ and _ahh_ over the gorgeous shots while choking down the carrot juice Mel insisted she drink. _It’s high in vitamin A_ , the redhead would claim when Rose complained. _Keeps your immune system strong._

Mel knocked on her door, and she called her in, distracted. “Yeah?”

“Rose?” Her assistant poked her head in, carrying her laptop. “D’you have a minute?”

“Of course, what’s up?” 

Me came around behind her, setting her laptop on the desk in front of her and logging in. “If you play your cards right, I think we’ve got our next big client,” she muttered, as the lock screen resolved into a Skype session.

At the other end of the call sat a well-dressed woman, with dark wooden furniture behind her. The woman was seated at a desk as well, with little in the camera frame except for herself, certainly nothing to identify her. A redhead, she appeared a few years older than Rose, and she had… an _air_ about her.

“Rose Tyler, this is Her Royal Highness the Princess Donna of Gallifrey,” Mel said carefully, positioning herself off screen. “She’s potentially interested in hiring us. Your Highness this is Rose Tyler, she is the owner and secret weapon of Bad Wolf Matchmaking.”

_What?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rose gets an intriguing job offer, and Donna tries to do damage control.

**_Monday, April 1st (continued)_ **

“Is this legit?” Rose asked under her breath, smiling brightly. “I mean, it’s April Fools.”

Mel nodded, curls bouncing. “Totally,” she whispered back, before kicking Rose’s leg. “Rude.”

“Uh, hello, Your Highness,” Rose greeted the Princess, feeling out of her depth if this wasn’t a prank. She’d had celebrities and politicians as clients, some fairly recognizable names, but _royalty_? She folded her hands tightly to help stop the sudden trembling. _It’s just like any other potential client interview. Keep it together._

“A pleasure to meet you,” Princess Donna said regally, and Rose swallowed her nerves.

“And you, such as it is. How may I help you?” Off to the side Mel waved to catch her eye, holding up a post-it reading _Ma’am_. “Ma’am,” she dutifully added, forcing her smile brighter.

The Princess gazed at her speculatively, clearly evaluating Rose as Rose was her. “My brother the King is in… a bit of a situation. He _must_ find a bride and marry her on or before his coronation, or he will have to forfeit the throne to me, something my husband and I want under no circumstances.”

“And how can I help?” The post-it waved off to the side, and Rose bit back a sigh. “Ma’am?”

“I’ve heard you’re a miracle worker, and what we need is certainly that. My brother must take a wife in the next four weeks, and she must be of the highest caliber with the potential, ability, and willingness to bear children – otherwise we’re simply delaying my own coronation, and I’d prefer to avoid it at all costs.”

Rose blinked, waiting for the 'gotcha!’, but none came. “I see,” she said, even though she didn’t. “May I ask- Normally I deal directly with the client?” she trailed off expectantly.

The Princess nodded, looking serious. “I understand. But I had to speak with you first. I want my brother to find happiness and love of course, but I also _need_ him to find a wife. I won’t lie, it’s a heavy undertaking, but you come highly recommended. If you can pull this off, you may name your price.”

 _And if I don’t, then my life and reputation are in shambles. I’ll have to move back in with Mum!_ “Can you give us a moment to confer, please, Ma’am?”

Rose’s tense smile lasted just long enough for her to mute the audio and kill the video, double checking the Princess couldn’t hear before she turned on her assistant. “What did you _do_?!”

“Nothing!” Mel protested, holding up her hands in peace. “I just answered the phone! This woman, Sarah Jane, said she might be looking to hire us – sort of – but it was complicated and delicate. Next thing I know, I’m Skyping a _Princess_!”

“I can’t do this,” Rose said bluntly. “There’s too much riding on it. If I _fail_ , we’re done. And how do we pull this off in _four_ weeks?!”

Mel smiled sympathetically. “I’m not sure turning down the chance to work with royalty will be much better. We just… have to do it.”

She was right, and they both knew it, but Rose wasn’t quite ready to admit it. “What do we _do_?”

“We put on a brave smile, trust the process, and go be the guests of royalty in an _actual_ palace for the next four weeks!”

“It’s not that easy,” she hissed. “We’ve never had that quick of a turnaround before!”

Mel rolled her eyes, leaning over her to do a quick Google search. “Look at this.”

Within seconds a picture of a beautiful medieval castle filled her screen, like something out of her little girl princess fantasies. “That’s not fair!”

“You’re keeping the Princess waiting.” Before Rose could argue, she reconnected with the impatient-looking redhead. “So sorry for the delay Your Highness.”

“Well?” the woman demanded, arching an eyebrow. “Should I book you plane tickets?”

Rose took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “Yes, we would be... _delighted_ to help.”

“Sarah Jane will call back with the arrangements within the hour. I’m looking forward to meeting you.”

 _Wonderful_.

* * *

Donna disconnected the call with a satisfied grin, glancing over at Sarah Jane who hovered just out of view. “What did you think?”

“I like her,” Sarah Jane said decisively, nodding. “Oh, yes. From what I’ve heard, if anyone can find the perfect Queen it’s her.”

“Even for Ian?”

“Even for Ian,” she laughed.

Donna sighed, leaning back in her chair and staring up at the ceiling. “God I hope so. She’s our last hope. He said he’d figure it out, but he’s perfectly happy to abdicate and go back to playing doctor. More than- we both know he’d prefer it.”

“He knows his duty,” Sarah Jane shook her head. “He’ll come through – kicking and screaming. He loves Gallifrey too much, regardless of what he says.”

The door to Donna’s office burst open, Ian striding in without consideration. “What’s going on in here?”

Donna stood, smoothing her skirt as she met her brother’s eye head on. “Trying to find you a queen.”

He grimaced, bracing himself on the back of a visitor’s chair on the other side of her desk. “Oh, goody. I hate to interrupt _that_ , but I have a country to run. I need Sarah.”

“Of course, Your Majesty, my apologies.” Sarah Jane curtseyed, deeper than strictly necessary. “I believe the Education Secretary is due soon for an audience.”

Ian nodded sharply, turning towards the door. “Donna, don’t do anything stupid or I’ll abdicate just to spite you.”

Donna made a face at his back, waving goodbye to Sarah Jane as she hurried out after Ian, closing the door behind her. Sinking back into her chair, she pulled up the _Bad Wolf Matchmakers_ website again, clicking to the bio for Ms. Rose Tyler.

_I need a miracle. Can you pull it off?_

* * *

**_Tuesday, April 2nd_ **

Rose flipped anxiously through her book as they made their way through the Gallifrey train station, two porters trailing behind with their luggage. “Why are there so many rules for working with royals?” she fretted, a tightness in her chest that had settled there after the call with the Princess the day before and had yet to budge.

“Because they’re royal? It’ll all be fine!”

Rolling her eyes, Rose handed the book to Mel. “You’re too optimistic. Right, quiz me again?”

“Name and title?”

Rose rolled her eyes. “His Majesty King Ian of Gallifrey. Forty-five years old, never married, came to the throne last spring. Must marry before his coronation, must be coronated by the first anniversary of his accession. Give me something _difficult_.”

“What degree does he have?”

“Doctor of medicine. Has mainly worked overseas, Africa, that sort of thing.” They wound their way through the station as Mel peppered her with questions.

“Favorite things to do?”

“Travel the world, practice medicine, play the guitar?”

“Why hasn’t he ever married?”

Rose bit her lip at that as they reached the parking lot. “Self-proclaimed bachelor. That’s all I know. Ooh! That’s us,” Rose added, spotting a driver holding a sign reading _Rose Tyler_.

They giggled as they climbed into the town car decorated with state flags, _oohing_ and _aahing_ on the drive to the castle. It was only fifteen minutes door to door, but they had gorgeous views of the Alps and forest on the way. The kingdom of Gallifrey, or so Wikipedia had claimed, was a micro-nation nestled between France and Switzerland. A constitutional monarchy, the family line stretched back nearly a thousand years. By virtue of their size and proximity to Switzerland they had managed to avoid getting dragged into any of the major conflicts of the last century, remaining neutral and nearly forgotten.

The scenery itself was gorgeous, the first hints of spring budding on the trees even as snow clung to the mountaintops in the distance. Rose considered herself a city girl through and through, having never lived anywhere but London, but this… _I could get used to views like this_.

* * *

The palace appeared out of nowhere around a bend in the road, perched high up on a hill and making both women gasp in delight. It was stunning, well maintained, and enormous.

“ _Rose_ ,” Mel breathed, tapping her arm, and she faced forward again only to gasp.

“Oh my _God_.” They stared up at the courtyard as the car came to a stop, the driver opening the door for them. It looked like a traditional medieval castle, built with clean-cut gray stone. Every doorway in sight was arched, with several turrets and towers reaching towards the sky, and it reminded Rose of her favorite architectural features of Windsor Castle at home. “This is _beautiful._ ” The word didn’t do it justice, but it was all she had as she stepped out.

“Hello,” a voice chirped, and she spotted a boy standing in the nearest doorway. He was dressed fairly formally, in black slacks and a blazer, but had an open and friendly face. Early teens, he was still all gangly limbs but would clearly be tall.

“Hello,” Rose smiled, trying to take in the view while not being rude. “How are you?”

“Well, ma’am, thank you.”

A woman hurried out of the door behind him them, gently moving him to the side. “Luke! Don’t badger them already,” she scolded, approaching Rose. “Sorry, my son Luke. I’m Sarah Jane Smith, His Majesty’s personal assistant. I believe we spoke on the phone?” She directed the last bit towards Mel, who had joined Rose on the near side of the car.

“Yes, Melanie Bush,” she introduced herself, shaking her hand. “This is Rose Tyler. It’s lovely to meet you in person.”

“You as well,” the woman gushed, shaking Rose’s hand as well. “We’re thrilled you’re here. Please, come with me.”

They followed her into the palace, her son trailing behind only to break off after a minute, disappearing down a corridor.

“How long have you known the King?” Rose asked as they made their way through the halls. She tried to keep track of the twists and turns, but was hopelessly lost after the third.

“All his life,” she smiled over her shoulder. “His mother was my sister, actually. I worked as an investigative reporter, but after I adopted my son about ten years ago I retired from that – I didn’t want to be away from him so much. She convinced me – begged, really – to come keep Ian- His Majesty- in line. I manage his day-to-day; the schedule, who sees him, who doesn’t. I’m the gatekeeper, especially off the palace grounds. In return Luke and I live here, spending time with family. It might be somewhat unconventional, but it works for us.”

“That’s really sweet,” she smiled, though her stomach clenched at what _wasn’t_ said. _Is he really that difficult, you can’t find an assistant? What have we gotten ourselves into?_

They stopped at a set of tall double doors, Sarah Jane turning with a smile. “This is you – a suite normally reserved for visiting dignitaries or royals. It’s far closer to the King’s quarters, giving you better access. Hopefully it will suit your needs.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Rose promised, then the doors swung open and her heart stopped. “Oh _my_.”

She entered the ‘room’ in a daze, mouth falling open as she took in the space. It was the height of two stories, pristine white walls with gold crown molding. The furniture was delicate and sparse, exactly what she’d expect in a royal palace, with a sturdy wooden desk situated at the far end of the room by the windows. Two windows covered most of the outside wall, letting in plenty of sun. They reached from waist-high to just below the ceiling, and were simply breathtaking. In all, everything she had seen so far was what she imagined castles looking like as a child.

“This will do,” she said faintly, making Sarah Jane laugh.

“Excellent. There is a bedroom on either side of this room, and I’ll give you a few moments to freshen up before your trip. His Majesty has fifteen free minutes soon, and I would like to introduce you to himself and the Princess Royal.”

Rose nodded, heading for one of the doors leading out of the room. Stepping inside she found a bedroom similarly decorated to the first room, with a four-poster bed littered with fluffy pillows. “Is this heaven?”

“It certainly seems it,” Mel said, amused, peering in over her shoulder. “D’you want this one? Either is fine, I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Still in a daze, she meandered towards the en suite. It was elegant, if a bit old-fashioned, but she didn’t care – she was in love. Taking a minute to freshen up, she was just checking her teeth in the mirror when Mel knocked on the door. “Yeah?”

“Sarah Jane is back, she’d like to take you to meet the Princess then the King.”

“Thank you.” Smoothing her hair one last time and refreshing her lipstick, she met Sarah Jane in the main room.

“Ready?” The woman asked kindly, and Rose pasted on her brightest smile.

“Of course! I’m so excited to get started.”

“Excellent.” Sarah Jane guided her out into the hall, leading her towards the right. “Once I leave you with the Princess I will work with Mel to get everything you need arranged. As my duties are to tend to the King, one of my staff has been assigned to you. Bill will see to anything you need; you only have to ask and she’ll arrange it. She will also serve as your chauffeur should you need to leave the castle.”

Rose rubbed her hands on her thighs as they neared the most imposing set of double doors yet, knowing she was moments away from meeting royalty. “That’s very generous, thank you.”

“Miss Tyler- may I call you Rose?”

“Of course.”

“Rose, I just want to take a moment to reiterate the importance of your presence here. The future of our country depends on you. But more importantly, my nephew’s _happiness_ does. I believe with the right bride he could happily face a lifetime of being king, but at the moment… Donna, the Princess Royal and his current heir, does what she can to step into the ceremonial duties of Queen, but that’s not sustainable. It is critical that we find him the right woman. I won’t lie and say it will be easy, but you will have everything you require.”

Swallowing harshly, she did her best to meet Sarah Jane’s gaze head on. “I understand, and will do everything in my power to help.”

Nodding sharply, Sarah Jane opened the door. “Miss Tyler, Your Highness.”

* * *

Rose walked in with her head held high, heading towards the redhead she’d Skyped with just yesterday. “Good morning, Your Highness.” Curtseying slightly, she noted the approving tick upwards of the woman’s lips before they settled into a firm line again.

“Thank you, Sarah,” the Princess directed at her aunt, who nodded and closed the door, leaving them alone. “Thank you, Miss Tyler, for your haste in arriving. I fear you may have your work cut out for you, and there is no time to squander.”

“I’m happy to be here, Your Highness,” she said politely, waiting until the princess gestured to sit.

“Please, help yourself to some tea,” she invited, and Rose did so, carefully pouring herself a cuppa.

“Thank you.”

They sat in silence for a moment, sipping at their teacups, Rose waiting for the princess to speak. She, naturally, didn’t have much of a daily interaction with royalty, though Princess Diana had visited her primary school when she was young. Still, she knew enough and rubbed elbows with enough high-profile people through her work to know to follow the other woman’s lead.

While she waited, she stared around the room in awe. Everything was done in white and gold, from the carpets to the furniture to the walls. Archways were everywhere, a vaulted ceiling over head, from which hung a magnificent chandelier. It was the picture of luxury, and exactly what she would expect a royal palace to look like.

“Do you have any questions?” the princess finally offered, and Rose jumped at the chance.

“Yes. If I may, why has he not taken a wife before now?”

The princess sighed heavily. “May I be frank?”

“Of course. The more I know about him, his life, his preferences and personality and likes and dislikes, the better I’ll be able to narrow down the candidates. There _is_ no time to dance around it, honestly.”

She lowered her teacup to her lap, fiddling with the handle as she stared down. “Ian… has always been his own man. He knows his own mind, and his greatest goal has always been to help people – that’s why he went to medical school. His view on the crown is that he would have to give up that dream; to me, it’s just implementing it differently. He may not be checking vitals, but it’s his responsibility to steer this ship still, and produce an heir to inherit from him. His patient is no longer a person, but rather a country.”

“And if he doesn’t…”

“Then it will come to me, or my children if I’m gone. We- my husband and I- don’t want that. I prefer working behind the scenes, going unnoticed. As it stands I am acting as consort for my brother, and it’s bloody exhausting. I’d rather help shape policy as needed and be home with my kids for dinner and homework.”

“You don’t live in the palace?”

The Princess smiled. “Technically. We have a house on the grounds, closer to the lake – it’s still part of the palace, but we have more freedom and room there. We wanted to give them as normal an upbringing as possible.”

Rose opened her mouth to respond, when the doors to the room swung open and a man stalked inside.

“Donna, what are you up to now?” he demanded, and Rose took her first proper look at him. For being only in his mid-forties his hair was gray going white, his features sharp and intimidating. “Who’re you?”

“Rose Tyler, Your Majesty,” she stood hurriedly, curtsying. “The matchmaker.”

His expression, if possible, grew stormier as he went still, eyes narrowing at his sister. “What. Did. You. _Do?_ ”

The princess held fast in the face of his anger, standing as well and smoothing her skirt. “I told you I wouldn’t stand idly by. Now, play nice – she’s here to help. Miss Tyler, my brother King Ian. Ian, Rose Tyler. I’ll leave you two to it, then.”

And she swept out of the room without a backwards glance, leaving Rose alone in the room with the furious king.

“Um, hello,” she smiled nervously, eyes wide at his irate expression. “You have a beautiful palace?”

It was official – she was in trouble. _Damn you, Mel!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and Ian meet for the first time - and neither is terribly impressed by what they find.

**_Tuesday, April 2nd (continued)_ **

“Did you say ‘matchmaker’?” the King asked, sounding terribly unimpressed. He crossed his arms, and she swallowed harshly at his glare.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I own a matchmaking company with a very high success rate. Your sister has hired me to find you a wife.”

King Ian looked her over, expression only souring further. “Not necessary.”

This had happened a few times before – someone (usually the intended’s mother) hiring her to find a man the perfect wife without telling him. She’d learned to lean in when they tried to scare her away. “I’m sorry, Sir, but the Princess hired me – not you. I work for _her_.”

“Donna doesn’t know how to keep her nose out of my business.” He paused, and she could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. They were a gorgeous ice blue, sharp and clear, and she knew that would be a major selling point for potential candidates. “Was my aunt part of this little scheme?”

“Yes.”

The king sagged then, shoulders slumping as if beaten. “Fine. How does this work?”

Rose almost smiled. With a client like this, resignation was the first victory. She could work with that. “Essentially, I get to know you. Your habits, quirks, personality. The things only family and friends see – the real you, the one your wife would know. Then I take what I’ve learned, and through a combination of proprietary software and my gut instinct – which is almost never wrong _provided_ the client is open and honest, I find a dozen or so potential candidates. My assistant Mel and I interview all of them, narrow the field to two or three, at which point you meet them and, hopefully, find your Mrs. Right.”

“So long as her first name isn’t ‘River’. Or ‘Always’.”

It took a moment to get the joke, and she let out a genuine laugh. “Noted.”

King Ian sat in his sister’s abandoned chair, nodding to himself. “I will… consider it.”

Rose waited, but when he merely arched an eyebrow, she recognized it as a dismissal. “Of course. Thank you, Your Majesty.” She made it almost to the door before she paused. “From what Sarah Jane and your sister have said, you love your kingdom and want to serve them well. The longer you fight me, the greater the chance of running out of time.”

He didn’t look back, instead leaning forward to pour himself a cuppa. “I’m sure you’ll be paid handsomely to keep that from happening. Which, I suppose, would make that in your best interest.”

Rose didn’t have a reply to that.

She had too much work to do.

* * *

Trudging back to their suite, she once again considered just giving up and going home, before dismissing it. Mel was right – she was trapped, and all she could do was make the best of a bad situation and try to pull a rabbit out of her hat. If she failed, her career was over. If she gave up, her career was over.

But if she succeeded… If she could pull this off…

Opening the door to the suite she only made it a few steps in before stopping in surprise, taking in the room. She’d only been gone half an hour at most, but there had been a complete transformation.

Mel was standing behind the desk staring at a corkboard with a map pinned to it, and their early contenders’ pictures attached. It had been transformed into a proper war room, and she felt a spark of hope.

“Wow! You… did _way_ more than just unpack.”

Her assistant turned, smiling when she saw her. “Hi! Sarah Jane’s awesome. Also I met Bill – she’s lovely. Young, friendly, chatty. I’ll get more information than we could need out of her without having to ask a single question. How was the king?”

Sighing softly, Rose slumped into one of the visitor’s chairs in front of the desk.

“That bad?”

“Well, he had no idea we were coming,” she started dryly, “and doesn’t seem impressed that we’re here. He seems… resigned. It’s hard to say.”

“When will you sit down with him, start following him around?”

She shrugged. “No idea – conversation never got that far. I have _no_ idea how this is going to work. You might want to start applying for a new job now – I’ll write you a recommendation while I still have a good reputation.”

Mel laughed, shaking her head fondly. “You’ll charm him,” she said confidently. “Then you’ll find him the perfect wife, and they’ll have perfect babies, and you can be godmother.”

“Let’s hope.”

* * *

Sarah Jane reappeared a few hours later with a thick personal calendar. “Do you have a few minutes for me?”

“Of course!” Rose looked up from the profile she was reading, hurrying around the desk to clear the chairs of files. “Please, sit. How can I help you?”

The older woman laughed, smiling widely. “I’m here to ask _you_ that precise question. I know my nephew can be prickly, but there truly is a soft, mushy side underneath the thorns. Very, very _far_ underneath, but he’s been burned in the past. What do you need? I control his schedule as I said, so what access do you require?”

“Ideally? I’d like to spend the rest of the week following him around. Seeing how he behaves in front of subjects, alone, with only trusted people around. No press. I need to get to _know_ him, have access, pick his brain.”

“Done,” Sarah Jane said immediately, making notes on a pad. “At least, in regards to the following him around – even I can’t make him speak on command.”

“Also…” Rose figured this might be her best shot at getting some background. “I admit to doing a google search – I understand he was already engaged?”

The other woman nodded, sighing softly. “He had, for better or worse, picked his bride – some woman he’d met on his travels. Everything was- still is, I suppose- planned for a Coronation Day wedding. However, on Sunday we woke up and she was just… gone. No notice, no explanation from Ian. Finally it comes out she was a bit sharp to my son, and Ian flew off the handle, having her banished. We did our research, found you, and called first thing Monday.”

Rose winced – that wouldn’t exactly be a selling point to potential candidates. “Does that happen often?” she asked cautiously. “The… flying off the handle, making a rash decision bit.”

“Sometimes,” Sarah Jane allowed, “but mostly when it comes to something he’s passionate about. He can be very understanding – but he can also dig his heels in. He can be like… like a concrete wall – firm and unmovable, which is a wonderful thing to have at your back but near impossible to get through when it’s standing in your way.”

Some of her worry must have shown on her face despite her best efforts, because the other woman smiled kindly and reached forward, patting her hand. “At the very heart of him, Ian can be wonderfully warm and caring. My theory has always been that he’s never had the right _outlet_ for it. He put his heart and soul into medicine, but when my brother-in-law became sick and we knew it was a matter of time… I genuinely believe he could be a good- an _incredible_ husband – to the right woman. It’s just a matter of finding her.”

“The king doesn’t seem keen on the idea of my help.”

“My advice? Stand firm.” She smirked at Rose’s shocked expression. “Trust me – he’ll respect you more if you fight for what you believe in. If you just bow to his whims and go with the tide, he’ll have no confidence in you. But stay strong, and passionate, and he’ll come around.”

“Thank you,” Rose said gratefully. “I really appreciate that – and your insights will be incredibly helpful narrowing our list down. So he wouldn’t be one looking for a meek and mild ‘yes, dear’, kind of wife?”

“Heavens, no!” Sarah Jane laughed. “He might _say_ that, but that’s not what’s right for him. He needs someone who will agree with him when he’s right and argue when he’s wrong. He is a _king_ – he has enough subjects and staff to kiss his arse. He needs someone to be straight with him. Pull him back when he starts going too far, but cheer him on when he falls short of the finish line.”

“A partner.”

“Exactly!”

Rose nodded, catching sight of Mel sprawled on the floor scribbling as fast as she could, and felt a wave of affection for the woman. “Would you be able to arrange for us to share a meal soon? Dinner tonight, or breakfast tomorrow? I need to start as soon as possible to ensure I can find the perfect candidate. I’m very good at my job, but I’m not a superhero – even I have limitations.”

“Dinner tonight, then,” Sarah Jane nodded decisively, standing. “Expect to be taken down at seven – a cocktail dress would be perfectly suitable.”

“Thank you so much, really,” Rose gushed, standing as well and walking her to the door.

Halfway out, the woman paused to sigh softly. “I love my nephew, and I want to see him happy. Donna and I are in agreement – we can overlook a… less-than-stellar pedigree, so long as she makes him smile and laugh. The only way he’ll survive in this job is with support, love, and happiness. If he feels it, it will flow throughout the kingdom. If not…” Trailing off, she waited a beat before disappearing out the door.

“No pressure then,” Rose spoke aloud, and Mel snorted from her spot on the floor.

“It’s already five-thirty – you might want to start getting ready.”

“Right, thanks.” Ready. For dinner. With an actual, real _king_.

_Is this seriously my life right now?_

* * *

Wrapped in a towel, Rose stood in front of the closet biting her lip. She’d brought every nice outfit she owned plus a few she’d purchased Monday after hanging up with Princess Donna, but still didn’t feel like she had anything _right_.

“Problem?”

She turned to find Mel lingering in the doorway, watching her with an amused smile. “I don’t know what to wear,” she half-whined, shuffling through her dresses again. “What does one wear to dinner with a king?”

“This.” Mel produced a hanger from behind her back, and Rose gasped in delight. It was a beautiful burgundy dress, with a lace overlay that covered her décolletage and shoulders. Simple, elegant, _perfect_.

“That’s lovely,” she said, fingering the lace as her friend held it up. “I can’t borrow that, though.”

“Actually, it’s a gift,” Mel grinned. “And sort of an apology for throwing you into this, though all I did was answer the phone. I saw it when I was shopping, and it seemed perfect for you.”

“Aww, thank you!” Rose hugged her tightly, pulling away only to admire it again. “It’s gorgeous.”

Mel nodded in agreement. “If I do say so myself. Now, go do your makeup and put it on – I’ll do your hair while I tell you about a few candidates I’ve already found.”

_Maybe I won’t embarrass myself after all. An Estate girl dining with a king. Mum’ll never believe this!_

* * *

In hindsight, considering how their first meeting had gone she really should’ve expected this. _Could he_ be _further away and still at the same table?_

She’d been led to a dining room capable of seating at least a dozen or more people. The table was beautifully set, but also terribly long – and they were at opposite ends. _A little poignant, no?_ It felt like an accurate representation of their relationship, such as it was, at the moment.

“So, how long have you been playing Cupid?” the king asked midway through the salad – their third course so far. Rose was already full, trying to walk the line between eating enough to not leave the plate rudely full, but not gorging herself.

“About ten years.” She paused for a sip of wine the color of her dress. “I found the profession by chance, worked my way up. I opened my own company about three years ago. Why did you choose to become a doctor, knowing you’d have to give it up when you ascended the throne?”

He stopped mid-bite, and she thought he quirked an eyebrow – from a solid twenty feet away in dim lighting, it was hard to see. “I thought I’d be asking the questions.”

Rose shrugged. “The matches I make are based on what I know of the person – the more you hide or deliberately mislead me, the more likely you are to be unsatisfied with your options. The more truthful you are the easier it makes my job, which means I can work faster. The faster I can find the top candidates, the more time you’ll have to get to know them and make your decision – unless you prefer playing it down to the wire.”

“That’s where the danger and excitement is, is it not?”

“Is that why you’re a doctor? For the risk and thrill?”

The King sighed, setting down his fork and folding his hands. “Service was always very important to my mother. She recognized the privilege and opportunities we would receive, and always made a point of making sure we shared our talents and gave back. ‘God selected you to be king, Ian,’ she would say, ‘because He knew you would care for and protect your people. They are your first priority, and your first responsibility. Always.’ I… took that to heart.”

“She sounds wise.”

“She was.”

They finished the salad course in silence, and he waited until the table was cleared to continue. “I have always done what I can to help my people. My father was a good king, however, and… had things under control here. I saw it as my responsibility to use my gifts where the need was greater. I spent several years working in Africa, trying to educate and heal. They eventually forced me to return when he became sick.”

“That’s incredible,” Rose said sincerely, impressed, but also feeling a little silly. Here was this incredible man, rich, an honest-to-God _king_ , who put himself in harm’s way to help others – all she did was set men like him up with a wife. Her work was important, she truly believed that love and happiness in even a single person’s life would radiate out into the world, but it hardly compared.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I want?”

“Sir?”

He leaned back in his seat as the next course was served. “What I’m looking for in a wife, the qualities she must have?”

“No.” Rose waited until he picked up his fork again to tuck in. “I just need to know about _you_ – leave the rest to me.”

She could only hope she would be able to deliver.

_Who could compete with that?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and the King take one step forward and two steps back; Ian gets some perspective.

**_Tuesday, April 2nd (continued)_ **

Once dessert was cleared Rose expected to be dismissed, but instead the king came around to her end of the table and offered her his elbow. “Would you care to take in the night sky? I imagine we see significantly more stars than you would in London.”

“I would love to,” she smiled, taking his arm and letting him lead her out to the back patio. “Dinner was incredible – you eat like that every night?”

“Most nights,” he agreed, “though usually on a much smaller scale. Our chef is magnificent.”

They stopped then, and Rose tilted her head back. “Oh my _God_.” The view was breathtaking; Gallifrey was nestled in the foot of the Alps, with not much in the way of major cities for miles around, resulting in crystal clear skies and more stars than she knew existed. “This is… _spectacular_.”

“Thank you.”

He spent a few minutes pointing out different stars, telling her their stories, completely enthralling her even as she made a mental note on their candidates: _Must love nature_.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, a tad bit smugly, and she glanced over to see him smirking at her.

Catching her tongue between her teeth, she raised a humorous eyebrow at him. “You think you’re so impressive, don’t you?”

A (hopefully) mock-offended expression crossed his face. “I am too impressive!”

“Mhmm,” Rose hummed, turning her attention back to the sky.

“So tell me, Queen of Hearts, do you really believe in ‘true love’? That two people are meant for each other, the universe ordains it, chose them for each other?”

She tried not to let her surprise at his knowing the epithet show. “I do, absolutely. Do you, King of Gallifrey?”

“Not in the slightest,” he scoffed derisively, waving his hand. “The very idea is absurd.”

Finally tearing her gaze away from the sky, she met his eye and arched an eyebrow. “No more absurd than thinking the universe chose _you_ to rule Gallifrey.”

The king stiffened, face twisting. “That’s different.”

“How so?” She wasn’t necessarily trying to be argumentative, but was genuinely curious how he could see the two as completely separate ideas. “Either the universe, or God, or whatever you believe in is capable of such… interference, or planning, or it’s not. Person to person, person to pet, person to kingdom… It’s all the same.”

“ _I_ am the king,” he spit out, drawing up to his full height, “by the will of God himself. You insult me by suggesting what you have. Donna may have I hired you, but that is a mistake she will soon remedy. If you speak to all your clients as such, I’m shocked you’re still in business – for now. Get out of my sight.”

Rose’s eyes went wide, and she stepped forward. “Your Majesty, I’m so-”

“Out!” he roared, and not bothering to curtsey, Rose fled.

Racing back up the stairs to their rooms, she slammed the door shut behind her before leaning against it, chest heaving.

“Rose? How was dinner?” Mel asked innocently from her perch at the desk.

In response, Rose sank to the ground and burst into tears.

* * *

Ian stalked away from the Palace onto the grounds, beside himself with fury. _How dare she_ , he thought viciously. _Who does she think she is? A no one. I am_ King _. She is nothing._

His feet carried him automatically towards the lake, and he looked in vain on the way for something to kick, a rock or stick or anything. But of course they were the royal gardens, in the royal palace, and were expertly maintained. He would have better luck finding the secret entrance to the Hundred Acre Woods, or some such ridiculousness.

Finding himself on the shore of the lake, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to will his anger away. When that didn’t work he snapped them open, looking about and quickly locating a few decent skipping stones. Rolling his shoulders back and concentrating, he threw the first, counting the skips _one, two, three, four, five, shit_ until it sank.

The next three did fairly better, none making it to ten, and on impulse he kissed the last stone before imagining Rose Tyler’s face, preparing to throw it with the hope some sort of voodoo would occur and the further it went, the sooner she would be out of his palace, his hair, and his life.

A noise behind him startled him into dropping the stone on the very edge of the water, and cursing, he turned to see who was there.

“What?”

His snarl would have scared off anyone in the kingdom and most medium-sized wild animals, but the man who stood a few yards away was married to Donna, and therefore didn’t blink.

“All right?” Lee stammered out, sounding absolutely no different than if Ian had offered him a cuppa. That was the odd thing about his brother-in-law – he was absolutely the most even-keeled person he’d ever met, borderline incapable of reacting with strong emotion. That wasn’t to say he didn’t feel so, Ian knew how passionately he loved Donna and their children, but still managed to be a steady constant – in perfect balance with his wife, who had a tendency to fly off the handle and start shouting, living up to her fiery hair. They were well suited, Donna and Lee, which to her great annoyance only further eased Ian’s worry over potentially abdicating.

And, perhaps, _some_ resemblance existed between the siblings.

_Shit._

The bubble of his anger punctured, Ian sighed and let his shoulders slump. “D’you know what your wife did?”

Lee shrugged. “With all she does to help,” he got out laboriously, but without stuttering, “it’s hard to keep track.”

Ian felt that like a knife to his heart; he knew Lee’s intention wasn’t to guilt him, but he was guilted all the same. “Thanks.” Then he looked around, frowning. It was a quiet spring evening, the grounds naturally deserted, and it occurred to him to wonder what the other man was doing out. “Why aren’t you at home, kissing your kids to sleep?”

“Donna saw you,” he smiled wryly, “asked me to bring you to the house.” Lee gestured behind himself towards the cottage a few hundred yards along the bank, the only bright spot but for the palace and the moon.

“Fine.”

They trudged along in silence, Ian studying his brother-in-law out of the corner of his eye. The man was perfectly content to be married, to be a husband and father, to be a part of something more than just himself.

For the first time, Ian wondered if he too might, possibly, be able to find happiness in another person. His thoughts drifted towards the person hired to find that perfect woman, and scowled. _And they lived happily ever after_ , he mocked. He’d thought, at the time, that River would be the best he could do. When they’d met she was working on a dig as an archaeologist, one who had gotten hurt and been brought to a nearby village where it just so happened Ian was working as part of Doctors Without Borders.

Sparks had flown, and it had been so _refreshing_ to meet someone who only knew him as Ian, had no idea of his family or his destiny to be king. When his father grew ill and he was recalled to Gallifrey they’d kept in touch, and when it came time to choose a queen, he’d approached her.

In hindsight, perhaps it had been too easy to convince her to take the role, to play the part – as the year passed and preparations were made, he became less and less sure he could suffer a lifetime with her. Her berating of Luke had been the catalyst, but his first reaction at stumbling upon them had been vague relief, which told him it was the right move to send her away.

They walked into the cottage, and Ian had to take but one look at this sister to know that somehow, she _knew_ he’d had words with whatever-her-name-was. _Rose_.

“Don’t start,” he warned, before letting out an unregal ‘oof’ as he was tackled by the twins.

“Uncle Ian, Uncle Ian!” they cried in chorus, clambering over him, and he couldn’t help but laugh softly.

If he had to have one, _this_ was the kind of family he wanted.

* * *

**_Wednesday, April 3rd_ **

Leaning back in his desk chair, Ian sipped leisurely at his coffee as he watched the sunrise. He’d been up most of the night thinking, playing with a stress ball Donna had gifted him upon his ascension. It had originally been blue and green, a fairly accurate depiction of Earth, but now most of the green had cracked and faded, leaving it a robin’s egg blue. Still, the toy was soothing, and he enjoyed having something malleable in his hands as he worked out his thoughts.

“Ian?” A soft tap on the door announced the arrival of his guests, and he called them in without looking back.

“Yeah.”

His keen ears picked out the sounds of them walking across the office, settling behind the two visitor chairs and remaining standing.

“You can sit,” he rolled his eyes, keeping his back to them until the sun was above the treeline.

Once it had risen he turned back to his desk, finding his sister and aunt waiting with identical, expectant scowls.

Giving the stress ball one final, severe squeeze, he put it back in his drawer and settled his elbows on the desk, pressing his palms together as if in thought. “Do you believe in Divine Right?”

Irritatingly the two women exchanged glances, but it was Donna who spoke. “Do you?”

Folding his arms on the desk in front of him, he glared at his sister. “I’m asking you.”

“I think…” she bit her lip, clearly searching for words, which didn’t make him feel better. “I think that it’s possible,” she started slowly. “I think it’s the only thing keeping monarchies in existence today. I think that if you believe it your subjects will, but if you doubt it they will too.” Then she rolled her eyes, unusually serious spell over. “I think that’s a _terrible_ way to get out of choosing a bride and taking the throne. Honestly, Ian!”

“Sarah?”

His aunt pursed her lips, meeting his gaze head on. “I think, by definition, God’s ineffable plan is just that – unknowable. Anything is possible. In my opinion, there have been too many terrible rulers to believe that God specifically chose them to rule, necessarily. Too much bloodshed and fear, starvation and sickness. Every deposed king once believed God himself put him on that throne. Them perhaps more than most. The issue, so to speak, arises when the common people no longer believe it.”

“Ian? What’s this about?”

“What about ‘soul mates’?” he asked derisively. “The idea that God created the perfect partner for you. Do you believe in that?”

Sarah’s expression cleared, a knowing smile playing at her lips, and he scowled. “Anything is possible,” she repeated, “and I suppose the two ideas are opposite sides of the same coin. At the end of the day, why does the idea persist? Because people _want_ to believe it. If they believe they will find a perfect other half, if they never stop searching, perhaps they will while they may not have otherwise. If a people want to believe their ruler was chosen by God, they will accept that. Of course, having a fair and caring ruler certainly helps.”

“And you?” he turned his attention back to Donna, unhappy but unsurprised with Sarah’s answer and expecting the same from his sister.

The redhead shrugged, crossing her arms, the same smirk on her face. “Absolutely. Just look at Lee and I – we were made for each other. Does that not qualify?”

Looking between them he groaned, knowing that with them in agreement he didn’t stand a chance. After all, around three that morning he’d realized why he’d flown off the handle at matchmaker girl – the truth that the two concepts _were_ similar, and he wasn’t certain he believed in either one. A dangerous thing for a king.

“Fine,” he muttered, pulling a stack of papers towards him in a vain attempt to look busy. “The girl can stay.”

Holding up a copy of his speech to hide his face, he pretended not to see the women high five as they left his office.

_Bloody women._


	5. Chapter 5

**_Wednesday, April 3rd (continued)_ **

Rose shivered, pulling the blanket tighter around her. Unable to sleep, she’d decided to watch the sun rise over the Alps. Give the likely imminent collapse of Bad Wolf Matchmaking she would never have another opportunity, once she crawled home to her mum with her tail between her legs and accepted her fate of beans on toast, never to truly escape the Estate.

It had been sweet while it lasted.

Sniffling, she rested her chin on her knees. In a fit of self-flagellation, she’d decided the best place to watch would be from the back patio, only a few yards away from where she’d been summarily fired.

The sky flared with color, pinks and oranges streaming from behind the mountains, and her heart clenched. _Must enjoy beautiful sunrises_ , she couldn’t help but add to her list of requisite qualities in the future queen. It truly was spectacular, and for only a moment, it brought her peace as she watched the sun rise. Birds were chirping in the forest surrounding the palace and gardens, the light reflected in the still lake.

 _This is heaven_ , she thought wistfully.

When the sun had fully cleared the Alps and the dawn well turned to day, she stood up and dusted herself off. She’d packed almost everything the night before when she couldn’t sleep, but still had a solid two hours before the first train of the morning would leave. Mel had been given strict instructions to pack everything, though Rose doubted she had – she seemed to think a miracle would occur and they would stay.

Rose had no such hope or expectation.

Turning to go back into the house, she gasped to find the King standing a few feet behind her, watching with his arms crossed.

“Your Majesty,” she murmured, sinking into a deep curtsy, biting her lip to keep it from trembling as she kept her head bowed. _What, does he want to yell at me some more before I leave?_ she thought petulantly.

“Miss Tyler.” He cleared his throat, and she chanced a peek up to see him rubbing at the back of his neck. The King opened and closed his mouth several times before sighing heavily. “We have a full day, so we might as well get on with it. Will you join me for breakfast?”

 _Oh,_ now _he wants to meet with me_. “I’m sorry, I must finish packing. Thank you though,” she mumbled, not quite managing to mean it. She didn’t know what kind of game he was trying to play, but she’d have none of it. After being yelled at as she had, she had no energy left for another verbal beating – she’d get that soon enough from her mother, though Jackie’s would be peppered with _I told you so_ ’s, by tone if not words.

“Are you leaving?” he asked innocently, and Rose’s anger congealed, head snapping up to find him smirking slightly.

“What?”

The King shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets. “You’re free to go if you want, but I thought you signed a contract. Doesn’t look very good to duck out early.”

Straightening up, Rose studied him carefully in search of a trap. At first glance, he didn’t look much like a king; more like a magician, or a uni professor. An unzipped, black hooded sweatshirt gaped to show a _Rolling Stones_ tee, layered over black and white plaid pants and black boots. If she’d met him on the street, she might go so far as to wonder if he was homeless.

“I don’t understand.”

He groaned, rocking back on his heels slightly. “Oh, don’t make me say it,” he whined, before twisting his lips into a grimace. “Fine. I’m sorry I yelled. Will you stay?” It was said with the air of a naughty preschool boy before forced to apologize to the girl he’d teased, and glancing behind him, Rose found Princess Donna and Sarah Jane peering out from the door.

Well, if he wanted her to stay, she was going to take the chance to set some terms. “I have conditions.”

“Of course you fucking do.” He waved his hand impatiently for her to get on with it.

“Full access, and you answer my questions open and honestly,” was her biggest one, and though he pulled a face, he nodded. “You give me a fair chance to work.” Another nod, and Rose dithered; those were her main concerns, but she felt she needed something else, something to not just surrender. He might be King, but he wasn’t going to bully _her_. “And, finally – you _never_ speak to me that way again.”

“Deal.” He held out his hand, and Rose stared blankly at it, unsure of what he wanted. “Aren’t these sorts of things usually sealed with a handshake?” His amused tone brought her out of her head, and she shook it firmly.

“Why?”

He seemed to understand what she meant, even if she didn’t. “Because you were right – I love my country. And my sister. And, maybe- if you repeat this I’ll deny it and sack you for real- _maybe_ , the idea of a marriage and family like Donna’s got wouldn’t be the end of the world. Perhaps, with the right woman, I might even find myself moved to embrace the idea.”

“Fair enough.” A cool breeze blew across the patio and she shivered, pulling her blanket/shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I have one last condition.”

“Oh, what now?”

“Tea. _Lots_ of tea.”

* * *

After a silent breakfast they parted ways, Donna to get her children up, Ian and Rose to prepare for a day of engagements.

As he dressed and Sarah reviewed his schedule, he let his thoughts drift to the young woman. He’d seen the fire in her eyes when she spotted him this morning, recognized the initial flash of defiance before she capitulated to propriety.

Then, when he deigned to let her keep her job, she had the audacity to lecture him about his tone. For the sour face he liked to put on, it was refreshing to have someone not so intimidated by the crown he (metaphorically) wore. Sure, it silenced her tongue, but not her thoughts, which were so clearly written over her face.

It was a quality he hoped the wife she found for him would have, albeit with a more diplomatic bent than River had had.

He met her at the top of the stairs, and they awkwardly walked down to the entryway together, remaining in silence until they climbed into the car, Sarah already waiting there for them.

“Where are we going?” Rose asked, clearly torn between watching them and staring out the window, awe in her expression as they flew down the road.

“There’s a fountain opening, or something,” Ian replied, distracted. She looked so amazed he wondered what she was seeing, when it all was perfectly normal and boring, the same as every other day of his life.

Sarah sighed, shaking her head fondly. “The fountain in the main square is being dedicated to your grandmother, Queen Clarisse.”

“Right.” Ian just shrugged; he barely remembered the woman, except for the time she’d yelled at Donna for getting a dress dirty.

“So, how does this work?” Rose asked, tearing herself away from the window as they went through the gates. “You show up, give a speech? Do a jig?”

“Oh, I’d love to see that,” his aunt sniggered, and he shot her a warning look.

“The mayor will give an introduction, I’ll say a few words of a prepared speech, a few pictures, snip the ribbon or whatever, then done.”

He glanced out the window, waving half-heartedly to a little girl who spotted him, though he couldn’t help grin slightly when she tugged enthusiastically on her mother’s sleeve before pointing in their direction.

“The King will usually stay for a few minutes to give his subjects a chance to speak with him,” Sarah consulted her diary as if she didn’t have every second of his day planned and memorized, “then it’s back to the palace for a call with Monaco, though I can’t allow you to sit in on that. I’ve advised Mrs. Cooper – the cook – that you’ll be taking all meals together, except for any that are official state business.”

Ian stiffened, Rose doing so as well, but they arrived before either could respond. Graham, his driver, opened the car door, and he decided to leave the subject be for the moment, climbing out and automatically offering his hand to Rose and Sarah.

The young matchmaker hesitated a moment before accepting, hand briefly squeezing his releasing.

All the way to his designated spot, he thought about how natural it had felt to hold her hand.

* * *

It was a small crowd, and Rose made a mental note to ask why the event was so poorly attended; did the Gallifreyan people not want to take an opportunity to see their king? At home, hundreds would gather at a hospital or school or similar sort of event just for a chance of a glimpse. Here, though, it sounded like they could shake the king’s hand or even speak to him for a moment, yet so few were present. And half of _them_ seemed to be reporters.

Standing at the back, she listened as he was introduced and shook hands with the mayor, before standing at the podium. Rose was used to the royal family being the picture of poise and decorum, not to the monarch being dressed fairly casually and slouching over the podium, leaning his weight on it as though he were a uni professor giving a lecture.

The King pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, staring at it for a long moment before shrugging and putting it away.

“Some of you may remember my grandmother, Queen Clarisse,” he started fairly conversationally. “Though it was my grandfather who was the crowned sovereign, there is no question that she was the one who ruled.” The audience laughed softly and Rose grinned, tension easing. “Together they brought us through the Second World War, keeping our country united and safe. Even after the war was over she continued to fight, leading the charge to ensure that the children of the future, as they were then, or our parents to us today, grew up strong and brave, loyal and kind. Educated. Principled. Because of her, we are who we are today. She was a wonderful queen, and I hope my future wife will do as she did and more. Thank you.”

He stepped away from the podium, heedless of the titters and whispers that sparked at the word ‘wife’. Rose watched curiously as he stopped to speak to the mayor again, before realizing that several of the spectators were looking in her direction, the more brazen ones pointing.

Fighting back a smile, she carefully eased her way through the crowd towards the King, and he broke off his conversation as she approached.

“What did you think?” he asked, and Rose was surprised at how close to genuine his tone was, as though he actually cared for her opinion.

“She sounds like a hell of a woman,” she grinned, letting her tongue peek between her teeth.

The King blinked, seeming slightly off kilter, and her smiled slipped away as he stammered, “Er, yes, she was. Ahem. Hell, and a hell of a woman. Not much of a mother or grandmother, but an excellent queen.”

“Well, nobody’s perfect,” Rose teased, relieved when he smiled.

“Except for me,” he shot back, “though I’m not sure my sister would agree.”

“Your Majesty?” the mayor cut in, and they glanced over to see him standing there awkwardly, several little old ladies behind him watching hopefully. “A few of your subjects who remember the late Her Majesty wish to have their photograph taken with you, if it’s not too much trouble.”

The King sighed but nodded, and was instantly swarmed by half a dozen gray-haired grannies; if they were forty years younger, the casual observer would think him a rock star.

“D’you mind, dearie?” one of the women poked Rose, handing over her mobile with the camera open.

“Of course.”

It took ten minutes to get all the pictures as each lady wanted their own of the group before they started doing individual shots, the King clearly growing uncomfortable with the attention. Rose wondered briefly as she traded one smartphone for another if she should save him, but Sarah Jane was only a few feet away and watching with a smirk so she figured it was all right, even going so far as to brightly suggest a few more groupings for the pictures.

One of the women was more persistent than the rest, begging for one last one with his arm around her, which he granted – though as soon as Rose snapped the picture he honest to God _yelped_ , practically leaping away from the rest.

“Right, terribly sorry, got to go,” he blurted, before all but running for the car. She had the passing thought that he looked like a penguin with his ass on fire.

Rose managed to get the mobiles back to all the women and catch up to Sarah Jane before they caught each other’s eye, and began to howl with laughter.

 _Maybe this job won’t be so bad after all_ , Rose considered, shaking her head with amusement and heading for the Bentley, wishing she’d gotten the moment on camera. It was something she wouldn’t soon forget, no matter how this turned out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose and the King have a chance encounter out of the Palace, which makes them start to wonder if they've misjudged the other.

**_Wednesday, April 3rd (continued)_ **

“Right, where are we?” Rose asked brusquely, barreling through the doors into their suite. Mel stood at the corkboard, and she waved for her to follow as she continued into her bedroom to dress for dinner.

“How was the dedication?” Mel trailed after her, perching on the bench at the foot of Rose’s bed while she dug through her closet.

Rose started at the back where her nicer dresses were hidden, examining each one as she talked. “Nice. Not terribly well attended, I was surprised. It seemed the King spoke off the cuff. He was very good, engaging, certainly not stuffy or boring. He certainly _seemed_ comfortable, though that could always be an act. What have you found?”

“Well, based on our basic background parameters I’ve identified fifty-two potential matches,” her friend said, speaking up so Rose could hear her over the screech of sliding hangers. “D’you have anything blue? You wore red last night.”

“Fifty-two?”

“Those are of the ‘proper’ pedigree. Some level of nobility, age range, and single to my knowledge.”

Rose sighed, stepping back with her hands on her hips, equally frustrated with the job and her wardrobe. “Right. Well, it’s a start. Widen the field to non-nobility but still upper-class – heiresses, humanitarians, but posh. Amal Clooney, not a gap-year Greenpeace volunteer.” A hint of blue peeked out from the other end of her closet, where she found a gauzy blouse in a royal shade and a black pencil skirt. “What do you think of this?”

She held the outfit up to herself, turning to show Mel, who studied her carefully.

“That’ll work!”

* * *

**_Saturday, April 6th_ **

After their bumpy start, the next two days flew by. As Sarah Jane had promised, Rose spent effectively all day every day with the King, seeing him in action and getting a sense of what was required from the Queen. He slowly loosened up, telling unprompted stories every so often and making her laugh.

Between himself and Sarah Jane she was getting a clear picture of both what the role would require, and the type of woman needed to fill it.

Mel worked tirelessly from their suite, researching potential candidates and lining up tentative interviews. She managed the proprietary software they’d developed together, taking Rose’s instinct and insight and turning it into quantifiable data to rank the candidates as they narrowed the list.

The first Saturday they were there dawned bright and early, Sarah Jane finding them already at work with steaming mugs of coffee at eight in the morning.

“My goodness,” she said, making Rose and Mel’s heads snap up, “you’ve certainly been busy.”

“Sarah Jane!” Rose leapt to her feet and hurried to her, nearly tripping on a number of loose pages but managing not to fall. “Hi! Did you need something?”

Glancing around the room anxiously, she tried to see it from the other woman’s perspective. It certainly looked less than impressive, piles upon piles of paper spread over nearly the entire floor, though both she and Mel knew exactly what everything was.

To Sarah Jane, it probably looked like pure chaos.

“Quite the opposite,” the woman smiled. “You’ve both been working incredibly hard, the Princess and I are both very impressed. On that note, we have our annual spring festival occurring in town this weekend.”

“I didn’t know,” Rose’s eyes widened, heart plummeting. Despite a relatively peaceful and argumentative-free two and a half days she was constantly on guard, waiting for the King’s whim to change and send her packing. Her mind raced, trying to remember if the event had been mentioned; was she supposed to go? Was he waiting for her?

But the woman’s eyes were kind, and she was smiling. “I wouldn’t have expected you to, seeing as I never mentioned it.”

“I… don’t understand?”

“I’m giving you the day off,” Sarah Jane laughed. “I think it would be beneficial for you to go to the festival, truly get a feel for the people without the King or any of the palace staff, just be visitors. Have _fun_. Play games, try the food, enjoy yourselves, take a _break_.”

“That sounds lovely,” Mel spoke before Rose could, hurrying around to them and pinching Rose’s side viciously, presumably so she’d stay quiet. “Thank you so much! How should we get there?”

“Bill will drive you in,” their host explained. “And, here – consider it a little bonus.” She handed Rose an envelope, a quick rifle through showing several twenty Euro notes.

“Thank you,” Rose repeated, smiling, at war inside. One part wanted to stay and work, determined not to let anything keep her from success, while the other, larger part (buoyed by Mel’s enthusiasm for the idea) wanted to cut loose and take a few hours off. “I’m sure it’s wonderful.”

“I’m taking Luke tomorrow,” Sarah Jane confided, “and His Majesty will be judging a few competitions later in the week, but today’s the first day when everything’s freshest. Oh, it’s beautiful, and I hope you enjoy!”

Clutching the envelope to her chest, Rose fervently promised herself that they would.

_We deserve this._

* * *

Sarah Jane and Bill’s enthusiastic descriptions didn’t do the festival jealous – it was _spectacular_.

Sticking together, Rose and Mel went from vendor to vendor, _oohing_ and _aahing_ over the locally- and hand-made items, everything from knitted sweaters and scarves and hats to jams and jellies and wines.

“This is heaven,” Mel sighed, picking through a bag of trail mix for the local berries. “This whole country. It’s so _beautiful_ here, and everyone’s so friendly. Even though this is the capital, it feels just like a cozy English village. Can you imagine living here?”

“It’s incredible,” Rose agreed through a mouthful of popcorn. “Look how _happy_ everyone is.” Not just happy; _friendly_. They had already met dozens of locals, all pleased as punch to have visitors and a chance to gush about their homeland.

The main rows of booths lined the street, one on either side, and though they hadn’t ventured from that path yet, Rose knew a second set of booths were set up on the sidewalks behind the main aisles.

A hand-made sign proclaiming _Baked Goods This Way!_ pointed down one of the breaks between booths, and Rose’s sweet tooth insisted she follow it, Mel hot on her heels. They came out behind the row of tents to see the second, less crowded aisle of booths. Fewer vendors were set up here along the sidewalk, their foot traffic suffering for it.

Most of the buildings were the typically quaint old-fashioned storefronts, two stories with the shop on the ground floor and flats above it. Nearly every one showed signs of recent activity, indicating that they were open in general, and specifically for the festival.

An elegant old building that had clearly seen better days loomed over the rest of the street, a folding table set up right in front of the door with hand-decorated signs. Judging by its architecture, it had once been some sort of theater. Three preteen girls and a woman in her fifties stood behind the table, and the girls all lit up when Rose and Mel stopped in front of them.

“Hello!” the tallest one chirped, “Welcome to the City of Arcadia Children’s Center Bake Sale. We are selling baked goods to raise money to fix the roof after all the snow this winter. Would you like to buy something sweet?”

Rose’s heart melted at the practiced but heartfelt recitation, and judging by Mel’s _aww_ next to her, she agreed. “I most certainly would!” Glancing down at the table she carefully eyed the various treats, which ranged from cupcakes and cookies to candies, everything homemade. “This all looks so lovely, did you bake all this?”

The girl shook her head, giggling. “Just those cupcakes,” she pointed to a tray, “and some of the signs.”

Rose and Mel plucked up a cupcake each, Rose’s chocolate with chocolate icing and edible ball-bearings, while Mel’s was, of course, carrot cake, with an adorable iced carrot on top.

“Would you like some hot cocoa as well?” the preteen/sales shark asked innocently, and both women nodded.

“I certainly would, it’s still a bit nippy out!” Mel gave an exaggerated shiver, making the girls giggle. “Although, you don’t have any carrot juice, do you?” Rose elbowed her sharply. “I mean, do you attend the…”

“City of Arcadia Children’s Center,” all three girls chorused.

“Yes,” the leader continued, standing tall. “Since we were babies. It’s running low on funds, though, so we want to help."

The woman behind the table nodded, far more serious than her charges. “We’re all but free of charge, so anyone can send their children, only without donations we can hardly operate. An expensive childminding service opened last year, and many of the wealthier families hire from there. It’s good for the young women who get the work, but we’ve been struggling ever since.”

Rose didn’t even have to look at Mel to know she would agree with what she was about to do, and pulled the envelope of their money from Sarah Jane out and thrust it towards the woman without hesitation. “I don’t think it’s much, but I hope it helps.”

“Oh, thank you!” the woman gushed, not even looking in the envelope before coming around the table and hugging Mel and Rose. “You’re angels, truly! I suspect you’re from out of town, but please, feel free to come visit on Tuesday if you’re still here. I can give you a tour, and you can see how much this will help us. Really, I insist, just walk right in and ask for ‘Polly’, that’s me. My husband Ben and I run the Center, he does most of the handiwork about the place. Oh, thank you!” Polly squeezed them again, drawing laughs from both women and giggles from the girls.

“Best of luck,” Rose said warmly, “it was lovely to meet you.”

They moved on, heading back towards the main thoroughfare again, though Rose couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder.

An idea was brewing.

* * *

Ian resettled the hat on his head before adjusting his sunglasses, doing his best to remain incognito. He would officially be attending the Festival later in the week, but ever since he was old enough to sneak out of the palace he’d stolen down on the first day every year, never missing it if he was in the country.

The last thing he wanted, though, was to be recognized. Whenever possible he went out in disguise, to sit in a pub or take in a performance or game. He liked to be amongst Gallifreyans, be part of the crowd, see it from their eyes. He’d figured out very early on that life looked much different from the crowds versus the royal dais.

He preferred the crowd.

Eating directly from the baggie of cookies he’d bought at Polly’s table with a wink and discreet check, he wandered the stalls looking for inspiration for Donna’s forthcoming birthday. The ‘official’ gift was already set, organized well in advance, but he always tried to do something personal as well, usually finding something at the Festival for her. She valued Gallifreyan-made as much as he did, believed in supporting their people and the creative arts.

 _I could get her another case of that wine she liked…_ he mused, before grimacing. Wine felt so… impersonal a gift to him, so fleeting. He always strove for something tangible but practical, something she could _use_. _What do you get the person who has everything?_

He stopped at a stall with handknit scarves on display, and a surreptitious glance at the list on his mobile showed it had been at least five years since the last scarf he’d bought her. With another adjustment to his hat he began flicking through the options, immediately dismissing almost all of them as not being _Donna_.

A scarf in emerald on the rack behind the one he was looking at caught his eye, but when he tried to take it down, he found resistance.

“Oi, I’m looking at that one,” an irritated voice sounded from the other side, and after a moment he placed it with a heavy sigh. _Of course she’s here_ , he rolled his eyes. _If she blows my cover she’s fired._ That was a lie though – he’d thought that a dozen times since so far, and except for that first night, he’d never so much as vaguely hinted at the idea to her.

He continued to gently tug on the garment, partially to annoy her, and she came around the corner eyes blazing. “Hey! I had that first, and common court-e-sy… What?” Rose trailed off, tilting her head, brow furrowed, tongue peeking out of the corner of mouth in concentration as she stared at him.

“Shh,” he muttered, “I don’t want to be recognized.”

“You look fairly suspicious in all black and hiding your features,” she pointed out automatically, before flushing and letting go of the scarf. “Sorry.”

Ian shook his head, casting furtive eyes around to be sure they were unobserved. “It’s all right.”

“What are you doing here?” she whispered, voice dropping even lower to add, “Sir?”

“Shopping for my sister’s birthday,” he replied in kind. “You?”

“Souvenir for my Mum,” matchmaker girl shrugged, shoving her hands into her pockets. “I’ll find another one, though.”

He wavered; the polite thing to do would be to let her have it, but it was _perfect_ for Donna. “You can-”

“No,” she shook her head, cutting him off, eyes going wide. “Sorry. That’s perfect for her, to go with her hair. Really. Besides, Mum would probably prefer this one,” she gestured to one on the same rack as the teal, identical except in fluorescent pink. Ian fought back a shiver of disgust.

“Thank you,” he smiled, tipping his head down and lowering his sunglasses enough to meet her eye.

They stared awkwardly at each other for a long moment, before Ian nodded decisively. “I’m just going to pay,” he gestured towards the stall’s vendor, but she stopped him from turning.

“Wait! I just… why are you sneaking around buying a present? Couldn’t you send someone to do it?”

“No,” Ian said automatically, before stopping to consider the question. “I mean yes, I _could_. But then it’s not from _me_. I prefer to pick something out for her myself – I’ve always done it.”

Rose smiled after a moment. “That’s really nice,” she said wistfully.

He shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. “Thank you.” After a moment he turned away, and this time she didn’t stop him.

Paying for the scarf in cash and accepting his bag with a nod of thanks, he wandered off to enjoy the rest of the festival, but in the back of his mind, for some inexplicable reason he couldn’t stop thinking about her smile.

 _Ian Reginald, what is_ wrong _with you?_


	7. Chapter 7

**_Sunday, April 7th_ **

Sunday afternoon found Rose curled up in the library, reading through the second round of files Mel had produced to cull the herd further. With a warm throw across her lap and a tea service on the table in front of her, a roaring fire in the fireplace only a few feet away, she was particularly cosy and comfortable – or would be, if she could forget the enormity of the task in front of her.

“Made yourself at home, I see,” a voice drawled behind her, and she startled violently.

“Shit!” Just barely managing to not spill her cuppa, Rose twisted to see the King standing behind her, smirking with his arms crossed. “Your Majesty!” Fumbling into a half-standing position she attempted a curtsy, nearly falling over in the process. Embarrassed, she kept her head down, hoping he couldn't see the warmth blooming on her cheeks.

Thankfully he looked amused when she dared peek up from beneath her eyelashes, rather than cross. “Interesting reading?”

“Hopefully, your future wife is in one of these files,” she said, shifting on her feet.

“May I?” the King gestured towards the chair across from her, and she nodded, waiting until he sat to reclaim her own seat, doing her best not to fidget.

When he didn’t speak, she ventured, “Was there something I could help you with?”

“Can you tell me a bit more about your process?” He shifted slightly, just enough to telegraph that he was, possibly, as nervous and uncomfortable as she was.

“Of course!” she all but yelped, flushing again and tucking her hair behind her ears. “My assistant, Mel, has compiled a list of potential women for the position. As I get to know you we narrow that down until we have a manageable amount. From there we conduct Skype interviews, filtering down further until we have our top several candidates, who will come to Gallifrey to meet you. From there, it’s up to you, really, and chemistry.”

The King nodded, looking deep in thought, and Rose waited with bated breath. He seemed to be in a more introspective, considerate mood, and she hoped he might let something slip that would help. “What do you need from me?”

“Sir?”

“What do you need to know?” he clarified.

She’d answered this already, the first time they met, but she didn’t mind repeating it. “Anything that’s not available for public consumption. I don’t need to know anything about the publicity version of you – I can Google that. I’ve worked with many famous people, and they’re almost always different from how they are portrayed by the press.”

“I’m the king, I need to be what my people expect,” he said pointedly, but she refused to go on the defensive this time.

“That’s a role you play for ceremony and photo-ops and… fan encounters like at the fountain dedication. I need to know _you_. The real you. The one who wears rock’n’roll t-shirts and saves the world when no one’s looking.”

For a fraction of a moment his lips twitched, and she considered that a point in her favor, not that she was keeping score. “I’m not Superman.”

“Thank God, not sure you could pull off the tights,” she let slip out, before her eyes widened in horror. “Sorry!”

To her surprise, though, he let out a bark of laughter. “You’re probably right,” he agreed, chuckling, “though it might be worth trying to see the horrified look on my sister’s face.”

They laughed softly, and Rose let it trail off into silence.

“My life,” he started haltingly, “it’s… a different kind of normal. In these circumstances, one must learn to be guarded, and careful. I’ve been burned by putting my confidence in the wrong person one too many times. You can understand my hesitation with trusting a complete stranger.”

“Well, tell me more about yourself so we’re not strangers,” she teased. “Simple.”

“You first.”

Rose laughed, thought she cut herself off abruptly when he didn’t. “Seriously?”

His expression didn’t change, and she swallowed. “Okay. Uh, my dad died when I was a baby, so it was just me and mum. It wasn’t easy, but we made it work. I was working in a shop when I was nineteen and one night, a gas line took out the building. In desperation I took an immediate position as an assistant to the owner of a large matchmaking firm, learning the ropes on the fly and working my way up. After six years I struck out on my own, and it’s been an adventure.”

“It certainly sounds as such.”

The King didn’t continue, and she raised an eyebrow. “Right, your turn,” she prompted.

He pursed his lips, leaning forward. “My mother died eight years ago, my father last year. Obviously. My childhood was difficult as well, though not in the same way as yours. Growing up in the spotlight can be painful – no one wants to read articles critiquing how their pubescent years are going. Not that they were terribly cruel, but any comment can be devastating. I shudder to think what it might have been like, in this era of social media.”

He paused, licking his lips, and refused to meet her eye when he continued. “My mother became sick when I was seventeen, and though she beat it in a year, it sparked a need in me to know more about medicine, to help heal others as she was healed. With her encouragement I studied medicine at Johns Hopkins, in the States. I wanted to be totally anonymous, which I achieved there, and in the process gained the freedom to discover myself and my passions.”

“That’s how I felt,” Rose murmured. “When I first got my own place, away from my mum, I felt like I really knew who I was for the first time. It wasn’t easy, and sometimes I called her and went ‘how do I…’ et cetera, but I’m glad I did it.”

“Did she do her damnedest to make you feel guilty for it?”

“Yes!”

They shared another soft laugh, and Rose grinned. “You should do that more.”

“What?”

“Laugh.” _And smile_ , she thought, watching his eyes brighten. “It lights up your whole face.”

“As should you.” An almost embarrassed expression crossed his face then, and he stood, the mood shifting abruptly. “I’ve taken too much of your time on a Sunday. Please forgive me. Will I see you at dinner?”

Rose scrambled to her feet again, feeling whiplash from the sudden change. “Yes, of course. Really, though, you don’t have to go!”

“I’m afraid I must. Thank you for your time.”

Not waiting for her to curtsey, he practically ran away, and Rose stood watching the door for a long minute after he was gone.

_What just happened?_

* * *

Ian fled the library, feeling a little absurd at being driven from a room in his own home, but mostly overwhelmed at the level of intimacy they’d just shared.

He’d never told anyone why he’d pursued medicine. His family had certainly _guessed_ along the way, but in twenty-three years he’d never actually said the words – until now.

_What is she doing to me?_

A dual cry of “Uncle Ian!” was the only warning he had before being tackled, his niece and nephew throwing themselves at his legs and nearly sending him flying onto his back.

He let out an undignified yelp, arms wind-milling in an effort to keep himself upright, not bothering to glare at his sister when she sniggered.

“Alright there?” she asked brightly, smirking, and he lowered his arms to cup the children’s heads, one in each palm.

Hampered by the little ears present, he resorted to sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes. By now she’d well drilled him on behaving himself in front of them, wanting to show the twins a _good_ sibling relationship.

Of course, it only made them drag each other harder when alone.

“Your face’ll freeze like that, and we’ll never find you a wife,” Donna warned, making him groan softly.

“You’re getting _married_?!” his niece gasped, pulling back to beam up at him, and he couldn’t help the softening of his heart at her wide, semi-toothless grin.

“Yes,” he told her, picking her up and settling her on his hip. “If that’s alright with _you_ , Princess Sophia.”

The little girl gave him an even stare, tapping one tiny painted nail against her chin in thought. “Will she be my friend?”

“I hope so,” he answered truthfully, pressing his lips to the side of her head and inhaling. “I hope you _both_ like her,” he directed downwards, where Sebastian was still pressed against his leg.

“Okay,” his nephew said, popping his thumb in his mouth. “Can we have biscuits?”

Ian threw his head back in laughter, the pressure in his chest releasing into a warm fondness for his family. “I’m sure we can find some.”

* * *

Cosy mood lost, it didn’t take Rose long to pack up her things and return to the suite only to find Mel standing at the corkboard.

“What’s wrong?” Rose asked, dropping the files she held on a chair and walking towards her.

Two dozen or so pictures covered the edges now, connected by string to pins marking their home country.

Mel grimaced, the normally bubbly girl looking tense. “I just got some bad news,” she worried her lower lip between her teeth. “Reinette is away travelling.”

“No!”

Jeanne Poisson, Reinette to her friends, was French nobility and their tentative top choice. “Can we-”

“I’m trying,” Mel promised, “but it’s up to chance now.”

_Great._

* * *

An hour later Rose re-emerged from her bedroom with two distinct piles of folders.

“Success?” Mel asked hopefully, looking up from her laptop as Rose crossed to the corkboard, moving pictures around.

“From over a hundred potential candidates, we have narrowed it down to twenty in just under a week,” she said smugly, removing the photographs of the women she’d declared _not right_. “That alone is an achievement; excellent work, Mel.”

“Thank you.”

Once the board was arranged to her satisfaction, they both stood back to stare at it. “Right. Next is Skype interviews – I know it’s short notice, but schedule as many as you can for tomorrow. ‘Mrs. Right’ needs to be here no later than two weeks from today, ideally sooner.”

A knock on the door made them turn, only to see Princess Donna letting herself in. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Of course not Your Highness, please, come in.” Rose hurried around the desk to clear one of the chairs, though the Princess remained standing. “How can we help you?”

“I wanted to check on your progress, and see if I could be of any assistance.”

Rose and Mel exchanged glances. “Things are going well,” Rose said brightly, hiding her hands behind her back and picking at her nails. “We’ve narrowed the list to twenty, whom we expect to interview over Skype tomorrow. After that our top choices will come to the palace for in-person interviews. The final round is to interview them myself, then introduce them to the King. If all goes according to plan, your future Queen will be here in the next ten days.”

The Princess smiled, features relaxing. “Wonderful. Can I see your top candidate, please?”

Rose grimaced, hesitating only a moment before passing her a file. “Technically, this is the top match. Only we just learned earlier today that she is travelling, and we’re working on getting in touch with her.”

“French?” The Princess wrinkled her nose, and Rose hid a smile at the honest reaction.

“Yes. But as you can see, she’s a strong match to the King.”

She nodded slowly, flipping through the file before returning to the picture and staring. “Well, you are the expert, so I will take your word for it. Just… whatever it takes.”

“Yes, Your Highness. Thank you.”

Rose and Mel curtseyed together as the Princess left, before straightening up and staring at each other again.

“Now what?” Mel asked, and Rose’s teeth caught her bottom lip, worrying at it.

“Whatever it takes, I suppose.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Matchmaker and The King see each other in a different light, and it makes them rethink certain first impressions.

**_Monday, April 8th_ **

Rose essentially spent all of Monday on Skype, interviewing their shortlist. Each candidate got twenty-five minutes, and the list was fairly easy to pare down – too easy.

“Why does Reinette have to be out of the country?” she whined, going to the corkboard and crossing off another name. “My gut says she’s the best of them all. I just… don’t get the sense that any of them will be able to get past the gruff exterior.”

“Are we sure there _is_ anything past the gruff exterior?” Mel asked, queueing up the next interview but not yet connecting.

Rose nodded, folding her arms tightly across her stomach and staring out the window. “Absolutely. The question is, will he let any of these women in?” She thought about how he had behaved when they were alone, first on Saturday at the festival and then again on Sunday, in the library. She’d seen another side of him, a softer side, one that just wanted to take care of the people he loved.

Her theory was that was what attracted him to his previous fiancée; the anonymity. The ability to just _be_ , with no duties or expectations. Someone who wanted him for _Ian_ , not for ‘the King’.

A normal life.

* * *

Ian scowled at his closet, wondering how he could have _so. much. clothing._ and nothing to put on. Another evening, another dinner shared with Rose, and he couldn’t decide what to wear. Rather than try to analyze the _why_ of that particular angst, he instead started at one end again and flicked through his options.

Typically after a day full of pomp and pompousness, or more specifically meeting with the Privy Council, he tried to go casual with his dress, normal trousers and a rock band tee – but this was the first one since his daily dinner ~~dates~~ arrangement with Rose started. He wanted her to have a good impression of him, wanted to appear dignified and royal, but he also wanted to be himself.

A fresh suit hung on the back of the door and he crossed his arms, staring between it and the _Beatles_ tee he wanted.

 _I want to know you,_ she had said when she first arrived and he got blindsided by Donna and Sarah’s treachery. _The real you, the one your wife will know._

Well, that settled it. Nodding sharply he pulled the tee off the hanger and over his head, smoothing it down before searching out an old, worn pair of jeans he loved. His queen would have to understand that Ian Reginald Docherty was a force unto himself, and in the privacy of his own home (palatial as it may be) he was going to be comfortable. If she didn’t like rock music, they would have an issue.

He made it as far as opening his bedroom door before stopping with a sigh, slowly turning back and grabbing the jacket from a black suit and shrugging it on to add a bit of decorum to his look.

Rose was waiting in the hallway outside the closed dining room doors, fidgeting, and he took a moment to stop and watch her.

She was all dolled up in a dress and heels, turning to check her reflection in a mirror hung on the wall.

Gazing at her his heart gave a painful thump, one that was growing steadily harder to ignore. After spending the last several days answering her questions and being forced to reflect on the kind of partner he wanted for the first time, he was slowly coming to form a picture of his perfect wife in his mind, and the image was perhaps a little too clear.

She turned then, catching sight of him, and her face lit up like the sun. “Your Majesty,” she shot him a teasing grin, dipping into a curtsey that grew more natural and less formal by the day. “Nice shirt.”

“Thanks.” Ian could not have stopped his answering smile for anything on Earth as he joined her, and in a fit of whimsy, offered her his elbow. “May I escort you to dinner?”

“Why thank you.” She laced her arm through his, letting her tongue peek between her teeth and wiping his mind clear. “Shall we?” she prompted when he didn’t move.

“Yes.” His pulse thundered in his ears, and he turned to guide her back up the hallway closer towards his inner sanctum.

She trotted along with him easily enough, though he could feel the heat from her curious glances. “Where are we going?”

“In here.”

As if by magic a door on their right swung open, and they walked into a far smaller room than the usual. A table that sat six took up the majority of the space, with two places set across from each other. Ian guided her to the closer one and helped her into her seat, before coming around the table and settling down across from her. The head of the table sat empty, and the only decoration was a vase of flowers.

“This is lovely,” Rose murmured, looking around the room, “but I don’t understand.”

“It’s a bit less formal in here,” Ian shrugged, delighting in the awe and wonder on her face as she noted the details in the space. “When I take meals alone, or with just Donna or Sarah, we eat in here.”

She nodded slowly, opening her mouth as if to speak before snapping it shut again. “How was your day?” she asked instead, and leaning forward he began to tell her, pushing away the soft voice in the back of his mind that grew louder every day.

_If you play with fire, you’re bound to get burned._

* * *

After dinner they attempted another stroll on the grounds, though this time, Ian did his best to avoid controversial topics.

“What’s your favorite thing about Gallifrey?” Rose asked, once they’d made it a few yards from the patio.

“What?”

“Your favorite thing,” she repeated. “Just… when you think about Gallifrey, what do you think of?”

The first thing that came to mind was so surprising he stopped dead, barely noticing when Rose continued on for a few feet before turning back.

“Your Majesty?”

“Home,” he said roughly, blinking rapidly and meeting her eye with no small amount of wonder. “When I think of Gallifrey, I think of _home_.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

Ian shrugged. “I suppose,” he allowed, starting to walk again. “Especially now. It’s just something I never expected. Donna is home, Sarah Jane is home, but Gallifrey?” he trailed off.

Rose nodded, peeking shyly up at him. “I never thought I’d miss living with my Mum, but it only took a few weeks of living on my own to make me. Even now, after almost eight years, ‘home’ is still her flat, not mine. Not really. I call it home, and it _is_ home, but it’s also not… _home_. It’s strange.”

“I felt that way when I moved to the States for school. When my grandfather was alive and king we lived down at Lungbarrow House, by the edge of the lake, but he died when I was young, and my father ascended. After that we moved into the palace, but there’s a bit of me that still thinks of that place as home – especially since Donna had her twins and moved down there.”

“I’ve always quite liked the idea of home as a person,” Rose murmured, sticking her hands in her pockets, giving him a fleeting smile when he glanced down at her. “You know, ‘home is where the heart is’? I think I’d quite like that.”

“Can I ask…”

“Yes?”

Ian hesitated, but her open expression made him ask, “You don’t seem to be attached. How can you be a matchmaker without finding your own love?”

“Fair question,” she allowed. “I’ve seen love, absolutely. I believe in it, clearly, but I’ve seen it in action. My parents… Mum never remarried, and when I asked, she said she’d had offers now and again, but that Dad was it – he was her true love, and nothing could compare. I see it in my clients’ eyes, when they’re dancing at their wedding. I see it in people’s smiles everywhere. I _know_ it exists, and I know it exists for me, I just haven’t found him yet. But I will, when it’s time.”

“I admire your optimism,” he said diplomatically, “and I certainly hope that’s true for you.”

“It is,” Rose spoke with such confidence she had him half-convinced. “And it’s true for you too.”

“I’m so tired of being alone,” slipped out, his eyes widening slightly in surprise at the confession. “I’m so tired of having no one to share my evenings with, my life with.”

“You’ve your sister, and aunt, and a kingdom full of people who love you!”

Ian shook his head slowly. “I’m utterly alone at this time of night, if you haven’t noticed.” He stared out towards the lake, able to see it only after decades of experience – it was a cloudy night, the sky pitch black.

Rose tugged on his sleeve and he stopped, mostly at her audacity, and he glanced down at her again. “What?”

“There’s me,” she said earnestly, giving him a smile bright enough to power the entire kingdom. “At least until you find The One, there’s me.”

And suddenly, he could see.

* * *

**_Tuesday, April 9th_ **

The next day was full of engagements, Rose continuing to shadow the King. Most of the morning was spent standing back with Sarah Jane and watching him work, and she relished the opportunity to see him interact with his subjects.

“How goes the search?” his aunt asked, as he read a story to a preschool class.

“What?” Jarred from her thoughts Rose blinked, tearing her eyes away from where they’d been studying him. Despite his brusque personality with adults he was a hit with the kids, giving Rose an idea of what he might be like as a father; it certainly improved her opinion of him as a future parent. She could almost see it, him sprawled on a twin bed next to a tiny blond tot, reading bedtime stories and using funny voices as he was doing now, pretending not to notice her watching.

 _Wait, what?_ She shook her head violently to clear the image, though it only faded into the background versus vanishing completely. _I’m certainly not going to be there!_ Her heart gave an uncomfortable lurch at the idea, and she promptly promised herself to lay off the fine wine they’d been plying her and Mel with since they arrived.

“Rose? Are you all right?”

“Yes! Yes, fine, everything’s fine,” she said brightly, trying to focus on the woman next to her. “He’s awfully good with them, isn’t he?”

The other woman gave her a speculative look, but merely nodded. “He would never admit it, but he likes kids. You should see him as ‘Uncle Ian’ – he loves Donna’s children something fierce. And Luke, though he was obviously older when they met.”

Rose hummed, distracted once again by Ian. Every so often he would catch her eye and his smile would widen, sending her heart racing and stomach clenching. The better she got to know him the less severe his features seemed – what once seemed impenetrable ice blue eyes now held a brightly burning fire, one he seemed to keep well hidden.

“I did have a question, though,” she started carefully, peering at the other woman’s expression, but Sarah Jane just blinked.

“Yes?”

“I can’t help but notice that these engagements aren’t particularly well attended,” Rose bit her lip, trying to choose her words wisely. “It doesn’t seem as though people are terribly interested in seeing their king.”

Sarah Jane burst into laughter, catching her nephew’s attention and earning her a frown. “Because he’s so accessible,” she said, smiling. “Things have been busy so he hasn’t had a chance since you arrived, but roughly once a month he dedicates a whole day to hear the complaints of the kingdom. You know, if you have a squabble with the law, or a neighbor, and you want him to pass judgement. There are events like this two or three times a week. Sometimes he goes for a stroll down High Street. It’s… it’s like seeing the mayor. You’re pleased to see him, it’s a bit of a celebrity event, but also _not_. That’s not to say they don’t love or respect him, that they don’t want him, but it’s more that he’s such a permanent fixture that it’s not necessarily something special. We’re a tiny country, you can drive the perimeter in less than an hour.”

“I see,” Rose nodded, still surprised. “I just know at home, whenever the Queen goes anywhere it’s a big deal, but here…”

“It’s nice, I think,” the other woman said. “There’s still the… _mystique_ that one needs as a monarch, the distance, but he’s not so high up on a pedestal that people think about knocking him down, even in this day and age. Quite frankly, he’s too valuable to lose.”

Rose looked back at the King to see him coming straight towards them, the children’s young, pretty teacher left standing where he’d been sat, looking disappointed.

“We need to be going, don’t we?” he asked his aunt brusquely, the look in his eye suggesting the answer better not be a _no_.

“Of course,” Sarah Jane said quickly, and with a quick wave ‘Goodbye!’ from Ian, they hurried out to the car. Once they were pulling away, though, she raised an eyebrow. “We were scheduled to be there for another hour. What do you propose we do with that time?”

Staring out the window, Rose caught sight of the building from the festival and gasped, an idea coming to her like lightning.

“Stop the car!”


	9. Chapter 9

**_Tuesday, April 9th (continued)_ **

In hindsight, she probably shouldn’t have been surprised when the car didn’t stop, and Graham merely said “Sir?” while looking in the rearview mirror.

“You can stop,” the King nodded, and the car immediately pulled into the next parking spot. “What is it?”

“Do you trust me?” Rose asked simply, blinking up at him and doing her best to look responsible and trustworthy. Given his unhappiness at her initial hiring, this would be a good test of if his feelings had changed, and if he was truly ready to play ball.

After a moment a smile spread across his face, and he nodded. “Aye. Are we getting out?”

He emerged first, before turning to help her out of the car. His hand was inordinately warm against hers, a pleasant feeling given the cold air around them, and he held on for far longer than was strictly necessary; they were several steps down the road before he let go, though she could still feel his touch like a phantom.

“Where are we going?”

“Come on,” Rose just grinned, heading up the steps of the Children’s Center to the main entrance, the King at her heels and Sarah Jane not far behind. A large knocker sat on the front door and Rose tapped it, fighting back nervousness as she waited for the door to open.

After what felt like a small eternity but couldn’t have been a minute at most, it was opened by an older gentleman with sandy blond hair, whose eyes widened at the sight of them before his brow furrowed. “Can I help you?”

“Hi,” she said brightly with far more confidence than she felt, “my name’s Rose, I spoke with Polly on Saturday, she said I could stop by today for a tour of the place. Is she available?”

The man nodded, blinking, before calling over his shoulder, “Pol, it’s for you!” Stepping aside, he gestured for them to enter. “She’ll be right down. Please, come in. Welcome, Your Majesty,” he bowed his head to his king.

“Thank you,” King Ian said graciously, before turning a curious eye to Rose. “What exactly are we doing here?”

“Mel and I- my assistant- we came into town for the start of the festival on Saturday,” Rose hurried to explain before the woman arrived, “and the Center- City of Arcadia Children’s Center, I believe- was hosting a bake sale. I got to chatting with the girls and Polly, and I had a thought. When you choose your wife, she should have a cause, right? Obviously because of timing she won’t have much time between the proposal and wedding, and I thought her first thing as Queen could be to sponsor the Children’s Center.”

The King arched an eyebrow at her, face impassive, and Rose held her breath. “You think this is an organization deserving of Crown funds?” he asked neutrally. “You know nothing about them, really. Or if they would even accept it.”

“That’s why we’re here!” she explained, as Polly hurried up.

“Sorry, love, I was changing a nappy- oh my word! Your Majesty, welcome!” She dropped into a deep curtsey, and Rose had to hide a smile at her obvious surprise and bewilderment. “How may I serve you?”

“Miss Tyler is assisting with planning the Coronation,” he said vaguely, “and thought I should stop by.”

Rose bit her lip, taking in everyone’s lackluster expressions and wondering if she’d made a huge mistake. Again. _Shit._ “It was just a thought,” she mumbled, backtracking, her face flushing. “But if there’s a more pressing engagement…”

“I did promise her a tour, Sir,” Polly cut in. “Please, it would be an honor.”

The King’s jaw clenched, but he nodded in agreement, making Rose feel worse. “I suppose we have a few minutes,” he allowed, causing Ben and Polly to both brighten considerably.

“That’s wonderful! Please, if you’ll follow me,” Polly said, turning towards a room on the right-hand side, and Rose waited until everyone else followed to fall in line, shoulders slumping and biting her lip to keep from crying.

_Shit, shit, shit! Why do I keep fucking this up?_

* * *

By the time they were done with the tour of the Center Ian’s jaw ached from clenching it so tightly in an attempt not to smile or laugh. Rose had stuck to the back of the group, looking miserable, which made it easier to keep up the façade.

In truth, he was slightly amazed at her talent – somehow, with no guidance or hint from him, she had managed to key into one of the causes most dear to his heart, after healthcare. That she would see a somewhat run-down building where children would go for free care and think _this is a cause a Queen should support, this is the_ first _cause a Queen should support_ amazed him. When the subject had come up at various times throughout his life, most of the women he asked _What would be your first priority as Queen_? would respond with some variation of the fine arts. Music, dancing, painting, sculptures, preserving history… All fine things, he would admit, but not his top priority – _that_ was his subjects.

And somehow she had seen that bit of his heart, had translated it so _perfectly_.

He managed to keep his expression severe until they climbed back into the car.

As soon as the doors had shut and Graham had started driving again she blurted, “I’m so sorry! I should have asked first, that was so _stupid_ of me. I hope you weren’t offended, or annoyed. It was just an idea, and a terrible one. Please forget about it!”

She looked terrified, the poor girl, and he could contain himself no longer, letting out a snort that soon turned to a fully belly laugh, as he truly let loose for what felt like the first time in ages.

“Your Majesty?” Rose’s small, scared voice snapped him out of it, and wiping at his eyes with his shirtsleeves, he fought for composure.

“You did nothing wrong,” he rasped out, gratefully accepting a bottle of water from Sarah and sipping at it. “Quite the contrary.”

“So… you’re not going to fire me? Again?”

Any remaining humor fled immediately, and he made sure to meet and hold her eye when he said, “No. I have no intention of doing so. You’ve been doing an… adequate job,” he allowed, not quite able to say what he really felt, suddenly worried that if he did, the whole sordid truth might spill out. “No, I’m quite afraid you’re stuck here until I marry, Miss Tyler, and not a second less.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, a tentative smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “What did you think of the Center?”

He smiled warmly, digging in his jacket’s inner pocket for a moment before pulling out what he was looking for. Flipping it open to the right page, he held it out towards Rose in offering. “My personal checking account – Ian Docherty, that is, not ‘the King’. Funded by my work as a doctor- that bit’s not important though. See the last entry?”

Rose took it, reading aloud, “A thousand dollars paid to- _oh_.”

“You see?” He accepted his checkbook back with a nod. “You’ve managed to find the cause most dear to my heart, after medicine.”

“Why?”

“Why what?” Ian blinked, unsure of her question.

She raised an eyebrow, looking more relaxed now that she knew she hadn’t mucked up. “Why is the Center so important to you?”

 _That_ was an unexpected question, though he supposed perfectly reasonable. “Polly was our nanny,” he said slowly, “when we were young. Once we no longer needed her she went to start the center, with my parents’ blessing. She wanted to give children who had less than ideal childhoods a safe place. Polly was always firm though, she didn’t want the Crown paying for the Center – private donations only, though we tried to convince her otherwise. We have grants and other programs that would help support her, but she still refuses. I write her a check every month, but most go uncashed – I know they’re struggling when one is. Most over the last year have been.”

A ball of worry twisted his gut, as he let himself think about the Center. Polly and Ben were both dear to him, people he’d known and loved his entire life, and the thought of them struggling made his soul ache. He did all he could to help, continuing to write them checks and sending workers around when he caught wind of a problem.

“Donna actually sends her twins there, twice a week,” he shared unexpectedly. “She hadn’t before, but once the fancy agency opened she started to, to try to encourage others to support it. The rich couples who care about status and money were the first ones to pull out, and she had hoped that the chance to rub elbows, or more specifically share toys, with royalty would be enough to tempt them back. Their donations had been what kept the Center firmly in the black, but the building’s so old that it’s difficult for Ben to maintain on his own.”

The _it wasn’t enough_ went unsaid, but Rose picked it up loud and clear it seemed, based on her sympathetic expression.

And then her face lit up. “What if you hosted a fundraiser?”

“What?”

Rose nodded excitedly, eyes gleaming. “Oh, it’s perfect! It might be last minute, but it could work. You host a ball, or dinner, or whatever, with the price of the tickets going straight to the Center. Ben and Polly would be honored guests. We’ll be doing in-person interviews by then, so whoever is still on our shortlist can attend. We have them mingle – it gives them a chance to meet your subjects, and understand the sort of causes that are important to you. Quite frankly, their opinions afterwards might be quite telling. Especially if it’s not so formal! Host a casual dinner, and see how the candidates react. I know being _normal_ is important to you, and it gives you a chance to see them that way! If they can’t handle it, or sneer, or go over the top, then that helps weed the list down further! Oh, that’s _brilliant_ ,” she gushed, digging a notebook out of her purse and starting to scribble in it.

“I think it’s a fine idea,” his aunt offered with a smile. “And the money won’t be coming directly from the Crown, so I think we can twist Polly’s arm into accepting it. We can have it this weekend!”

Ian raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two madly-smiling women. “You think you can pull this off?”

Two heads bobbed enthusiastically.

He let out a sigh, before nodding. “Then do it.”

Rose’s answering beam was enough to make it worth it.

 _It’s official. I am_ fucked.

* * *

**_Thursday, April 11th_ **

Naturally, that meant Rose spent the next day and a half running around like a crazy person, trying to accomplish a thousand things at once. Wednesday was the first round of interviews, each of the twelve getting forty-five minutes with Rose. Seven were sent home that day, and the five spent Thursday morning in more intensive interviews with Rose, an hour each.

Now, for a little _happy hour get to know you_ , the King would meet the remaining women for the first time. From there, he would hopefully narrow it down to three, and then finally one.

Rose walked him towards the ballroom where hopefully his future bride and queen waited, doing her best to encourage him. “Look, you chat with them, try to find some common ground. All five are, on paper, if not perfect, then very well suited to you. But only you can feel a spark with one of them, and make your choice.”

“How will I know?” he asked tentatively, as they walked arm in arm down the hall from his apartments to the minor ballroom hosting the small cocktail party.

“Know?”

“Who to keep.”

Rose shrugged, wrinkling her nose. “Whoever gives you butterflies.”

“Butterflies? Is that like indigestion?”

She laughed. “You’ve never had them before? Blimey. Uh, yeah, I suppose, but… happy.”

“Happy indigestion?” He looked so baffled she had to smile despite her own nerves.

“Exactly. It’s okay to be nervous though – this is just a first pass,” she tried to reassure him with a pat on his forearm, privately marveling at the softness of his suit jacket. “Anyone you absolutely don’t click with, or can’t possibly see a future with, we send home. Those left will get an hour or two of your time tomorrow, and attend the fundraiser Saturday night – which is pulling together beautifully, by the way.”

“Right.” They reached the ballroom then, stopping outside the doors, and he let out a deep breath. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Rose inspected him carefully, adjusting his already-straight tie and brushing off his shoulders just for an excuse to touch him, though she refused to allow herself to dwell on the _why_ of that particular desire. “The most important thing is _be yourself_. They’re evaluating you as much as you are them – if you both pretend to be something other than you are, you might run into another ‘River’ situation.”

“You think they’ll be pretending?”

“Of course.” She snorted. “One of the women in there will almost definitely become a _queen_ in two weeks. They will do and say whatever they have to in order to get the crown. So, trust your gut, follow the butterflies, and let fate do the rest. Okay?”

He nodded slowly, still looking rather unsure. “I hate this. I wish she would just let me abdicate,” he whined, making Rose smile.

“Obviously, your sister believes you can _do_ this. And for the record, so do I.”

That, at least, seemed to mean something to him, because the deep crease in his forehead mostly smoothed. She didn’t let herself wonder if, perhaps, it was _her_ confidence in him more than Princess Donna’s that was the cause.

“Thank you, Miss Tyler, for everything,” the King said softly, genuinely, raising her hand to his lips, pressing the most fleeting of kisses to her knuckles and sending her stomach into a riot. “Wish me luck.”

“You’ll know,” she promised with a confidence she didn’t feel, tone matching his. “Maybe not the moment you meet, but you’ll _know_. One of those women will be _her_. Just have faith.”

With a final nod, he tugged at the hem of his jacket to straighten it before nodding at the footman waiting, who opened the door. Shoulders back and head high, he walked into the room like the King he was, leaving Rose standing outside alone.

_God, please let me be right. Please let her be in the palace tonight._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**_Friday, April 12th_ **

The next morning, Rose was just about ready to give in and ask how Mel had breakfast delivered when a knock on the suite door preceded Ryan the footman poking his head in.

“Ma’am?” He offered out a silver tray, a folded piece of cream stationary perfectly centered on it. The Gallifreyan coat of arms was embossed on the top in gold and scarlet, looking terribly fancy.

Rose scrambled up from the floor, where she’d been in the middle of the file folders on each of their remaining candidates. With any luck, the pool would be narrowed further once she got the King’s assessments of each woman back. “Thank you!” Opening the note, she found perfect handwriting inside that read:

_Rose,_

_Please join me for breakfast._

_Ian_

“When you’re ready, ma’am,” Ryan said politely, and she nodded.

“One minute.” She darted back into her bathroom, pulling her brush through her hair again and refreshing her lipstick before returning to the main room, tugging at the hem of her skirt. “Hopefully we’ll have the new list by noon, and we can reevaluate then. Text me if anything comes up.”

Mel laughed, shaking her head. “Go eat, find out how last night went,” she ordered. “I’m going down to the breakfast room soon, see who turns up and get the gossip that way. We can compare notes whenever you’re back.”

“You’re an absolute angel,” Rose declared, before following Ryan down the hall towards breakfast. She straightened her outfit on the way, wondering who all would be at the meal and how the evening had gone.

She was escorted to their now-typical dining room, the more intimate one from Monday evening. Entering, she was slightly surprised to find the King already there, sitting in his usual spot and writing away on a sheet of paper.

He was alone, and her heart unclenched.

Something alerted him to her presence and his head jerked up, a smile spreading across his face. “R- Miss Tyler! Thank you for joining me, please, have a seat.”

To her surprise he practically _ran_ around the table to pull her chair out for her, waiting until she sat to push her back in before returning to his own seat, putting his papers away without an apparent second thought.

“How was your evening?”

Rose arched an eyebrow, barely noticing as their food was delivered and the servants slipped out of the room. “Busy with the final touches for tomorrow night. Yours?”

It hit her like a bolt of lightning before he even opened his mouth, the reason for his good mood. _Oh, God, no. He found someone._ Then she realized what she’d thought with horror. _No, that’s a_ good _thing! That’s why we’re here. He was_ supposed _to find his perfect queen last night._ Regardless, tears welled in her eyes.

“It was fine,” he shrugged, “I’m just finishing up the reviews now.” He gestured towards the folder, which Rose realized must contain the after-meeting questionnaires she’d asked him to complete.

“That’s good,” she choked out, toying with a bite of waffle. “Your comments will help up guide you further, or possibly re-expand our pool if need be.” Waffles were her favorite food second only to chips, but at this moment, she couldn’t even bear the thought. “How many women do you want to keep?”

Ian gave her an odd look, unusually serious even for him, before quirking his lips into a smile. “ _Keep_? None.” The strange look flashed in his eye again, but he just shook his head. “I’m not looking for a harem. I was speaking to Donna though – she said you had a woman on the list who wasn’t there?”

Rose nodded, pasting on a numb smile and hoping he couldn’t see her lack of enthusiasm. _You’re a professional, act like it!_ “One, yes, a French diplomat’s daughter – we’re still trying to get her to come at least for a visit, but she’s currently on a private yacht in the Mediterranean, and we’re having trouble getting in touch with her.”

“All right. What happens in the meantime, then, oh wise one?”

A dozen things hovered on the tip of her tongue, but what came out was, “Today, each woman gets an hour of your time, just the two of you, so you can get to know each other better. Then the fundraiser tomorrow night - I expect we can eliminate at least another one or two based on their reactions to the event. Then early next week you’ll spend a day with each of the remaining matches, amidst your other duties. They’ll shadow you somewhat as I did, to dedications and speeches and such. If our long shot surfaces long enough to get her here, you’ll spend some time with her as well.”

“And when do I need to choose?” Despite his earlier enthusiasm for his steak and eggs, he was now pushing bits of egg around the plate in circles with his fork, staring at the food without seeming to see it.

“I recommend by next weekend,” Rose said softly, “so you have at least a few days before the engagement party to focus on each other and be sure. Well, as sure as you can.” It was a tight timeframe, too tight, but all she could do was cross her fingers and hope for love at second sight, if not first. _Come on, Reinette, answer your phone!_

“Do I have to marry one of these three women? If I found… found someone who suited me better?” He raised his head, watching her expression intently, and she floundered for a moment.

_He’s not saying what you think he is_ , the little voice in the back of her mind that sounded like her mother whispered. _Don’t be so presumptuous._ “That’s not up to me,” she said truthfully. “The Princess hired me to find you a wife – I certainly have no authority to force you to do… _anything_. If you were to find someone… someone else, I’d be happy to run you both through our program, find your compatibility percentage.”

“Even if it cost you your fee?”

“I just want you to be happy,” Rose blurted with far more honesty than she had intended, eyes widening for a moment before trying to backtrack. “I mean, my whole mission is to help people find love. I want _everyone_ to be happy. You know?” She chewed on her bottom lip, and for a moment, she imagined he was staring at her mouth with longing.

“I understand.” The King nodded, and the tension vanished. “Anyway, is there anything I can do to help with planning for tomorrow?”

* * *

Donna shut the door to Lungbarrow House with a relieved sigh, reveling in the peace and quiet after the organized chaos of the ballroom in preparation for the fundraiser, now a little over twenty-four hours away. The servants were done for the day, the children still at the Center, and she had the house entirely to herself.

“Angel?”

Opening her eyes, she found her husband standing in front of her watching with a concerned expression.

“Hi,” Donna breathed, stepping forward into his waiting arms and sinking into him. “Oh, it’s so nice to see someone _sane_.”

“Trouble?” Taking her by the hand, he led her up the stairs to their bedroom, settling on the bench at the foot of their bed and watching her with patient eyes. That was one of the numerous things she loved about her husband, his patient, easy-going temperament. They were polar opposites in many ways, but that only served to make them _work_.

Donna shook her head, sinking into his side. “No. Not really. It’s just so _frustrating_!”

Her husband hummed. “What? Planning?”

“Ian! And Rose. God, Lee, they’re so _stupid_. Both are still pretending that he’s going to marry one of these women she’s brought in, and it’s infuriating. I’ve tried hinting to him about her, and it’s getting me nowhere!”

“Rose? For Queen?” Lee tilted his head against hers as he considered the idea. “That… sounds like a good match.”

“Right?! Oh, wait until you see how they look at each other tomorrow at the Fundraiser. There’s no denying what’s there – except for them, apparently.” Turning her head, she captured his lips in a tender kiss.

He returned it, deepening it, one hand coming up to cup her face, thumb brushing tenderly along her cheek. “I wish them as much happiness as I have,” he whispered, raining kisses over her face.

“Lee?”

“Yes, Angel?”

“ _Stop_ talking about my brother and _start_ taking off your shirt.”

“Yes, Angel.”

* * *

**_Saturday, April 13th_ **

Contrary to Thursday night, when the guest list had only included himself, Donna, and the five ‘bachelorettes’ as he had taken to privately calling them, the benefit on Saturday was open to the public. For twenty euros any citizen could gain access to the Palace, attend a talent show given by the children Polly and Ben cared for, have a nice meal catered by the palace kitchens, and mingle with the royal family.

Ian had made sure the casual nature of the evening was very clear to everyone – especially his potential brides. He himself was dressed in work boots, jeans, a Queen tee, and a black jacket with scarlet lining he particularly loved even if Donna said it made him look like a party magician.

In a fit of whimsy, he had stationed himself by the entrance to the ballroom so he could shake everyone’s hand as they entered and thank them for attending. He found it particularly amusing how many would almost brush past him, stop dead, turn back and fall into a deep bow or curtsey and stammer excuses.

So far three of his five potential brides had stopped by to chat, each dressed for a State Dinner. They looked amazing, in ball gowns and large jewels – and entirely out of place. _At least that makes it easy to avoid them,_ he thought gloomily, all the while realizing the folly of such a thought. He would have to marry _someone_ in sixteen days, and they were the best a professional matchmaker could find for him.

Objectively he knew many kings married for money or power or treaty, that few had married for love. That he should pick whoever would be the best queen and be done with it. In this day and age with modern medicine, he never had to even sleep with her if he didn’t really want to; they had several other options of having children that in no way involved sharing a bed. And they weren’t _terrible_ , he could see himself with all of them in some way – in another life.

_But that’s not the kind of marriage I want._ What he wanted, he considered wistfully as he watched Donna and Lee sway incongruously to a popular pop song and giggle together, was someone who loved _him_ , and he loved her, and they could share a reasonably-normal life.

“Yes,” he heard behind him, and he spun around, eyes lighting at seeing Rose standing there holding two beers.

“Hello!” he said warmly, raking his gaze over her as he stepped closer, away from the door. _Finally, someone who listens_.She was in dark jeans and heels which gave her a classy but casual look, matched with a worn _Queen_ tee and leather jacket. She looked better than the women in their ball gowns, and his heart stuttered. “Wait, what?”

Rose laughed, throwing her head back, but naturally, not in the performatively-seductive way some of the candidates had. “Yes,” she repeated, “I can find you somebody to love.” His blank look sparked another round of laughter, and she gestured at his own shirt. “Isn’t that the single cover for ‘Somebody to Love’?”

Ian stared down at his shirt for several long seconds, but eventually his brain rebooted and he realized she was right, chuckling softly to himself. “I didn’t even notice,” he confessed, “just grabbed the first one I saw.” In hindsight, perhaps it was a bit too on the nose.

“Well, I like it. And hey, we match!” She pulled her jacket away to let him see the detail; sure enough it had the artwork for _A Day at the Races_ , the album from which _Somebody to Love_ had first debuted. _A perfect match indeed._

“So we do,” he choked out, voice huskier than intended, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“How’s it going so far? Oh!” She thrust one of the beers towards him, flushing. “Sorry, I grabbed this for you then forgot all about it.”

Ian took it with surprise, lips turning up as he tasted it. “My favorite. Thank you.” _How does she know?_

“You looked like you could use a drink,” she shrugged, sipping at her own, before her eyes widened again. “Because you’ve been doing so much talking! I thought your throat was probably dry, not that you were bored!”

He laughed at her slightly panicked expression. “I appreciate the thought,” was all he said before changing the subject. “How are you finding the event? Are you pleased?”

Rose nodded, her whiskey eyes lighting again. “I don’t have much experience event planning, but it was so much fun! Choosing everything, trying to find the right balance between the formality they would expect from the Palace but a casualness to make the average person feel welcome instead of intimidated. But you didn’t answer, have you had a chance to speak to any… non-subjects yet?”

A small clump of hair had escaped her fancy hairdo, hanging over her cheek, and it made it difficult to process her words for a moment.

Grimacing, he nodded towards the high-top where all five women stood, each dressed to the nines, looking utterly out of place at what amounted to a casual fundraiser. It was fitting, given what his heart was trying to tell him. “Apparently I wasn’t clear enough.”

Rose clucked her tongue, shaking her head and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, one that had been making Ian’s fingers itch to fix. “Well, that’s disappointing. Maybe they thought it was a test – the other way, I mean. I don’t know.” She huffed, irritated on his behalf, and he had to fight back a smile.

“By the by, the one in… what’s that color? The reddish-pink one?”

“Coral?”

“Yes, her, and the one next to her in the bubblegum pink – I’ve had Sarah book them on the first train out tomorrow.”

Rose nodded, not looking surprised. “If it makes you feel better, they were the lowest two compatibility scores of the five.”

A question was on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it down in favor of asking, “Any word on the French girl?”

“Reinette? No, though we’re close. We expect to get in touch by Sunday noon.”

“All right.”

They stood in silence together for the length of a song, sipping at their beers, and he tried desperately to ignore how _right_ it felt, tried to ignore the advice she’d given him the evening before – he’d been up half the night with the realization that she was right.

He did know who he wanted, but she wasn’t his to have.

In the end, he would have to do what he always did – make do.

_You can’t always get what you want, indeed._


	11. Chapter 11

**_Sunday, April 14th_ **

“Ta da!” Rose said triumphantly, laying three pictures down on the desk. 

The first was Peri Brown - twenty-three, she was the daughter of an American newspaper magnate. A botanist by trade, they shared a love of science and nature. A (potential) marriage of opposites meant she would be ideal to breathe life and fun into the palace, with her bubbly optimism and can-do spirit.

In the middle was Romana Trelundar, a brunette beauty and Italian Countess. The epitome of elegance, she would bring grace and decorum to the role. At thirty-five she was the oldest of the three, but brought a level of maturity to the match the younger women might not.

Then, third, was the highest-rated of the three, Rose’s top choice if Reinette didn’t pull through. 

Twenty-seven year old Clara Oswald was the daughter of an English Earl from the Midlands. After a few aimless years out of uni, she’d found a love for teaching literature. After discovering the King’s dedication to the Children’s Center, Clara’s roots in educating and tending to children put her near the top of the list.

All three smiled up from candid photos Mel had pulled from their Instagrams. They were the final three, the culmination of two weeks of frantic matchmaking, and one of them would hopefully result in an untarnished reputation for Rose, when the lucky one married the King.

Her heart clenched.

“Great job!” Mel gushed, as they peered down at the photographs together. “I knew you could do it.”

“We’re not done yet,” Rose warned. “Not until the King says ‘I do’. _Then_ we can relax and celebrate.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll be celebrating,” her friend said, with just enough of a hint of mystery in her tone to catch Rose’s attention.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mel shrugged, slurping at her ever-present glass of carrot juice. “I’m just looking forward to seeing how this all turns out. Attending a royal wedding. On your birthday!”

“Me too.” Rose worried her lip. So much was riding on the success of this job, the idea of failure was unthinkable, and every time it was alluded to, her breath caught and her heart ached with nerves and worry.

“Did we get his surveys back?”

“Nope. He said he’s not quite ready to hand them over yet. Starting tomorrow he’ll spend a full day with each of them – Wednesday night he’ll let me know. He said he wants to be sure.”

Studying the three pictures in front of her, Rose let her gaze drift up towards Reinette’s picture, which was still tacked onto the corkboard mostly out of hope.

_Please let him find someone. Please let him find_ the one _._

* * *

**_Wednesday, April 17th_ **

With nothing to do but wait, Rose and Mel spent the first half of the week getting in touch with Reinette and arranging her travel. With her job almost complete but for him to make his decision, she had no ~~excuse~~ reason to spend the day shadowing him, though she continued to be summoned to share meals.

She told herself (and Mel, not that her friend ever asked) that her enthusiasm was for the opportunity to hear about how his relationships with the women were progressing. 

Which would have been true, if he told her anything.

By Wednesday night she was ready to tear her hair out with frustration, equally eager and terrified to hear who he would choose.

_It has to be Clara, right?_ she worried her thumbnail, as Ryan led her through the palace ostensibly for dinner. _Will she be there? Where are we going, anyway?_

“His Majesty is down by the lake,” Ryan said, stopping at the doors to the patio that faced said lake. Holding out her coat to her, his expectation that she would join the King was clear.

“Thank you,” was all she said, wrapping the trench coat around herself and stepping out the door, grumbling to herself. _If I‘d known I was coming outside, I would’ve worn pants._ Thinking they’d be inside for the night, she’d worn a cocktail dress and heels just as she had most of the evenings, leaving her legs bare and freezing. Her only consolation was that the ground was so solid, her stilettos didn’t sink into the dirt.

_First thing that check is buying are new shoes,_ she thought, picking her way down the worn dirt path. She could see him, now, a solitary figure at the lakeside, illuminated by the moonlight.

In another life, it would be utterly romantic, and if she were one of the three potential matches she would think he was about to propose.

“Hi,” she said quietly when she got close enough, not wanting to startle him.

“Hey.” The King let out a heavy sigh, and Rose’s heart simultaneously clenched and eased.

Stepping up she stood shoulder to shoulder with him, only inches away from touching as they stared out at the water together.

“What’s going on?” she finally asked, after several freezing minutes. She didn’t want to rush him, but the air was even colder down on the shore, and she would shortly shiver herself to death. “How did your days with Peri, Romana, and Clara go?”

The King shrugged, glancing her way, an unenthused expression on his face. “Fine. They were all lovely women. In another universe I could have been friends with any one of them, maybe.”

“And in this one?”

He licked his lips. “Nothing. Not one damn butterfly. I’m sure they’re perfect for someone, but that someone isn’t me.”

“Nothing?!” Rose demanded, incensed and a little offended. _Did he even try? Is he just trying to waste my time, run out the clock?_ “Okay maybe not love, but _nothing_? What’s wrong with you!”

“Oi!”

“I know what I’m doing,” she insisted. _If he doesn’t marry one of them,_ someone _, then my career is done._ “Those women could be perfect for you! Were you open to it? If you don’t open your heart you won’t find anyone! Are you just determined to- to- to make me fail?”

Surprisingly, the King managed to keep his cool, though he gave her a severe look. “You said I’d know,” he maintained, “and I did know – that they weren’t right. Surely there must be other women. What about that French girl?”

“ _Reinette_ ,” she snapped, “will be arriving tomorrow night. Your engagement party is a week from today. I suggest you think very carefully before dismissing her so quickly as well. At this point, there are no guarantees.”

And turning on her heel, she stomped back up to the palace without waiting to be dismissed, fuming all the way.

* * *

Ian watched her go, too amused to be surprised or offended by her lack of consideration for protocol.

_You’re a total goner, Ian Reginald,_ the little voice in the back of his mind whispered, and sighing, he knew it was right.

Sticking his hands in his pockets he made his way to the palace, surprised but pleased to enter his dining room to find her already in her chair, arms crossed. She was still stewing, but she was _there_ , and at the moment that was all that mattered.

She pointedly didn’t rise when he entered, not saying a word until their first course was served and they were alone. “Tell me why you didn’t like them.”

“They weren’t-” _you_ “-right. They were interesting, but I wasn’t _interested_. No spark, no butterflies. No fireworks.”

“Was there something specific? Something I can use to adjust the formula, I mean? Too… old, too young, you want a blonde or a brunette or a redhead? Spanish, Eastern European, American? Nobility? Wealthy? I just- I don’t understand how _all_ of them could be so wrong!” Rose viciously stabbed at her salad, and he had to hide a smile.

“Let’s see how it goes with Reinette,” he said gently, “and then… then we’ll see.”

He would play along, meet the woman, spend time with her.

And then, he would figure out how to convince his sister to let him marry Rose.

_Happy indigestion indeed._

* * *

**_Thursday, April 18th_ **

Ian spent the next morning in a state of placid panic, as he waited on pins and needles for Reinette to arrive at the palace. He felt a tiny bit bad about dragging her to Gallifrey just to waste her time, but it had to be done, and he had to give her a fair chance before dismissing her.

Rose had arranged a late dinner for them to meet, in the restaurant attached to the largest inn in town.

She went along for the ride, ostensibly so she could formally introduce them, though he suspected it was mainly to badger and lecture him when he couldn’t escape.

With a desperate seriousness and blazing eyes, she let him have it, and he could hear the occasional snort from Graham as she ranted, but Ian paid far more attention to her mouth than the words coming out of it. With every severe gesture the pom on the top of her beanie waved.

It was adorable. _She_ was adorable.

“Are you even listening to me?!” she demanded, snapping him out of his daze.

“Of course,” Ian rolled his eyes, blatantly lying; judging by her narrowed gaze, she knew it as well.

Pursing her lips and crossing her arms, she said, “I’m working on finding more candidates if you’re not happy with her, but _please_ give her a chance. The wedding is in nine days. You need to decide.”

“All right, all right,” he dismissed, not quite ready to tell her he _had_ decided. He would have dinner with Reinette, then tomorrow morning sit down with Donna and Sarah and tell them his plans. Provided they agreed, Rose could be wearing his ring in less than twenty-four hours.

His stomach rioted at the idea, but in a good way, and he found her description of _happy indigestion_ to still be on the nose. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck! And _behave_.” The car pulled to a stop and they got out, Ian offering Rose his hand and thrilled when she took it.

She led him into the restaurant and towards the booth tucked in the corner. The locals in the restaurant recognized him, starting to stand, but he just smiled and shook his head.

A lithe blonde poured from the booth at seeing them to stand next to it, dropping into a technically perfect curtsey. “Your Majesty,” she murmured, the words rolling off her tongue with a delightful French accent.

“Your ladyship,” he replied, taking her hand and kissing it gently. To his amusement Rose’s face twitched, a sour expression flashing across it, in jealousy he hoped. “A pleasure.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Rose bit out, smiling so brightly he thought her face would crack. After seeing so many genuine grins from her, it was easy to tell how fake this one was. _She_ is _jealous!_ “Bon appetit.”

And she spun on her heel and left, Ian watching her go with a twinkle in his eye before settling down on the far side of the booth, across from Reinette and giving him a visual of the entire room.

Picking up his menu, he peeked towards the door to see Rose standing there, door half open, watching with what could only be described as a longing look.

_I just have to get through tonight, then tomorrow she will be mine._

* * *

Despite his preoccupation with Rose, he found Reinette to be a decent dinner companion. If he wasn’t already arse over teakettle for Rose, he might have even found himself drawn to her. She was clever and witty, full of confidence but not herself. They shared many interests, and even knew many of the same people – her family home in France was less than an hour’s drive from the Gallifreyan/French border.

Exactly as Rose had predicted, she would make the perfect queen of Gallifrey.

But she wasn’t Rose.

Deciding to forgo a ride back to the palace, after seeing Reinette to the stairs as she was staying in the attached hotel, he stuck his hands in his pockets and walked back. It was a solid two-mile walk, but for as often as he did it it was nothing to him.

The crisp, clean air helped clear his mind, and he plotted out first his conversation with Donna and Sarah, and then how he would broach the subject with Rose. The first he wasn’t concerned about; the two women were constantly raving about her, how impressed they were with her, and had nothing but good things to say about how she had organized the benefit for the Children’s Center.

His worry was how to start the conversation with Rose. His gut said she felt as he did, that his feelings were not unrequited, but that she would take convincing. She hadn’t come to Gallifrey to marry, and if she did become Queen, she would have to give up the life she knew. Her dedication and love for her career were obvious, and he was sorry to know if she accepted she would have to leave it behind.

Whistling softly to himself as he climbed the steps to go around to the back patio, wanting to avoid the fuss of walking in through the front door, he spotted her leaning on the balcony of the upper level of the garden, staring out at the lake. Walking on the lower path to stand beneath her, feeling like the Romeo to her Juliet and trying to remember how exactly the scene started so he could quote it to her, he heard her speak.

“I’ll be home once the King is married on Saturday.” A pause, and he realized she was on her mobile. _Talking to her mum?_ He knew the two were close, and he wondered if he should announce his presence; given the angle and darkness, she probably couldn’t see him. “Come on Mickey, don’t be like that.” _Mickey? Who was Mickey?_ “Of course I miss you.” _What?_ “I’ll be home soon, we can start planning the wedding then. I’ve got to go though, it’s late.” _Wedding?_ “Love you too. Night.”

_Love you. Love you. Love you._

The words repeated in his mind as Ian’s heart shattered into a trillion tiny pieces, laying broken and bleeding on the flagstones.

_How could I have been so wrong?_


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They keep a stiff upper lip, walking the only path they can see in the dark.

**_Friday, April 19th_ **

The next morning found Ian slumped in his desk chair, back to the door as he stared out the windows. The glass went from floor to ceiling, wall to wall, providing the best view possible of the lake and Alps behind it. When the conditions were right, he could see straight across to the Swiss village that occupied the far shore.

Today, though, the sky was as opaque and threatening as his mood, dark clouds promising storms by day's end.

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t turn to look at the sound of his sister’s voice, trusting she would enter and bend his ear regardless. “Why do you assume something’s wrong?”

“Because it’s eleven in the morning and no one’s seen you. Sarah said Rose was at breakfast in the kitchens for the first time. So, tell me. What’s wrong?”

Donna came around the desk to crouch in front of him, steadying herself with a palm on his knee and staring up at him with the most sympathetic look possible.

Wiping his hand down his face, he sighed heavily, trying to subtly hide the bottle of scotch he held before she spotted it. “She’s engaged.”

“What? That’s ridiculous – why show up then? All she had to say was ‘no thanks, already engaged, not interested, but thanks anyway’. Why show and waste our time, then?”

Ian stared at her blankly, and she matched his expression, until it melted back to its previous level of sympathy.

“You’re not talking about Reinette.”

He slowly shook his head.

“You don’t want to marry Reinette.”

Another shake.

“You want Rose.”

This time, a tentative nod.

“And she’s engaged? She doesn’t wear a ring… I thought she was unattached?”

“So did I,” he sighed, sinking further in his chair and turning his attention out the window to a bird circling above the lake. “But last night, when I was coming back from dinner, I found her on the patio. She didn’t see me, but she was on her mobile, talking to a bloke, saying they’d start planning the wedding when she got back.”

“Maybe-”

“She said she loved him,” he cut Donna off, grimacing when her face twisted in sympathy.

“I’m sorry.”

Ian nodded sharply, crossing his arms. “It’s fine,” he lied, “I’ll… I’ll marry Reinette, and we’ll produce an heir, and you can go back to being the ‘spare’.”

“Have you considered _asking_ Rose about it?” she asked carefully, standing. “Maybe it’s not how it seemed? Maybe you misunderstood.”

“It’s not the kind of thing you misunderstand.” He smiled wistfully, picturing Rose in his mother’s coronation regalia, or her favorite tiara. _She would make a wonderful queen._ “Think nothing of it, and don’t even consider trying to do something _about_ it. I expressly forbid it.”

“All right,” Donna agreed easily enough, smirking when his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Whatever you say, Your Majesty. But might I recommend a shower? You reek of that scotch you’re trying to hide.”

And she swept out of the room, leaving him alone.

 _Damn her,_ he thought, more sad than angry. _Why must she see right through me?_

* * *

**_Sunday, April 21st_ **

After introducing Reinette to the King, Rose saw neither for days as she was utterly abandoned. No meal invitations, she never saw him in the halls. With nothing to do she was free to roam to her heart’s content, waiting on word that never came.

Friday and Saturday passed unremarkably, and Sunday was headed that way as well when Princess Donna knocked on the door around three in the afternoon.

“Come in,” Rose called, looking up from the Gallifrey-specific version of Monopoly they’d found in the game room.

“Yes, _please_ come and save me,” Mel muttered, scowling down at the board – for all her bubbly personality, the redhead was a sore loser, and a loser she would soon be if she landed on one more hotel.

Princess Donna stepped into the room, and they both stood and curtseyed to her.

“Rose, I was hoping perhaps you could assist me?” she asked, and Rose’s eyes lit up.

“Of course Your Highness, how?” Ditching the blanket she was using as a shaw, she shoved her feet back into her heels and stepped closer.

Leaving Mel behind they stepped out into the hall, the Princess leading her away from the direction of the King’s suite, making Rose’s hopes fall.

“The King has decided to propose to Reinette,” the redhead said bluntly, as they headed into a section of the Palace Rose had never seen. “He’s tasked me with picking a ring for her. Given that you likely know her best from your thorough vetting processes, I thought you might be able to guide me.”

“Oh,” Rose said softly, heart sinking like a stone. “Of course.”

Within two minutes they reached the basement, continuing on through several storage rooms until they came upon a guarded vault.

“Good afternoon Anthony,” the Princess said warmly to the soldier on the right, “I need to remove something from the Archive.”

“Certainly, Your Highness,” he bowed, “I’d be happy to get it for you. What is it?”

The Princess shook her head. “A ring, but I’m not sure which one yet. Miss Tyler here is to help me choose.”

They had to sign a book to get into the room, Princess Donna muttering, “This is where we keep all the Crown Jewels, Coronation Regalia, and the like. Copies of some things are kept in the Museum in town, but all the real items are kept here. In any case of emergency, this is the place to be. It’s the most secure spot in the kingdom.”

She led her down rows filled with gorgeous, priceless items, mostly various types of jewelry. Crowns and tiaras, scepters and swords, necklaces, earrings, medals, broaches, one twinkling item after another, dozens of each, _hundreds_ , each more spectacular than the last until they finally reached a cabinet a jeweler could only dream of. Several hundred rings must have sat in the combination-locked case, covered in diamonds and gemstones. Rubies, emeralds, sapphires, tanzanite, diamonds of every color, all sparkling in the overhead lighting.

“This is amazing,” Rose said softly. “Does this all get used?”

“Most of it,” the Princess said, undoing the lock. “Over time, at least. I try to wear something different on every State occasion, within my taste and size. We keep a log of when and by whom everything is worn, and sometimes I’ll pick what hasn’t been seen in the longest time and base my outfit around that, just to keep it in circulation. Does no good being kept hidden down here.”

Rose tentatively ran a hand over the top of the case, staring down at rings. “You’re very lucky,” she said softly. _The Jewel House at the Tower of London’s got nothing on this._

“I know.” Then the Princess stepped back. “Take a look, try some on if you like. Have fun. But keep in mind, they do an inventory after every time someone enters the Archive, so we’ll know if you pocket something.”

Rose’s head snapped up, horrified, only to find a teasing smirk on the Princess’s face. “Oh very funny,” she muttered, before going pink. “Sorry.”

Trying to decide where to start, she asked, “How are these organized?”

“Ring size, metal, type of stone. Reinette’s a size six,” she pointed to a section a third of the way down from the left wall, “but I’ll leave the rest to your discretion.”

If she weren’t heartbroken at the thought of picking a ring for the man she loved to give to another woman, Rose would be having the time of her life sorting through the rings. Reinette had a clear preference for gold jewelry based on her Instagram posts, and Rose started there.

The problem, she quickly realized, was that she had no idea what Reinette would prefer. Something gaudy? Something understated? Traditional diamond or a different stone? What cut?

A second problem, one she refused to acknowledge, was how much she wanted to be picking a ring for _herself_.

Finally choosing one slightly at random, she held it out towards the Princess. “This one, I think. Sorry, I match people to people, not jewelry.”

“She can always choose something else,” the other woman shrugged, sliding it on her pinky for safe keeping. “I expected we’d be down here longer, so if you wanted to play around with them…”

“Really?” Despite her heartbreak, Rose lit up. “These are all so gorgeous…”

“Go ahead,” the Princess grinned. “Have fun.”

Humming to herself, Rose abandoned the gold section for the white gold. “God these are stunning.”

“Which would you choose for yourself? If you were getting married, I mean?” Princess Donna asked, leaning on the cabinet nearby and watching her try rings on.

“Me?” Rose held her hand up to the light, admiring the sparkle on a diamond the size of her eye. “Probably not a diamond – or at least, not white. Maybe something pink, or blue. White gold.” She tried on another, this time an emerald. “I’m not sure.”

Then, she spotted _it_. “Oh,” she said, very softly, reaching a trembling hand into the case and plucking the ring out. “Oh my.” Tears pricked at her eyes, even as her heart ached. “Oh, if I could… This would be it.”

Sliding it on her finger, she turned towards the Princess to show her, who gasped softly as well.

“It suits you.”

Rose nodded, staring down at her finger. The band was white gold, the top half cut out into a celtic lover’s knot. A large, bright princess-cut sapphire sparkled from the center, surrounded by tiny white diamonds. It was elegant and clean, the stone large enough for a royal bride but not heavy enough to break her finger.

It was perfection.

But the only man who could give it to her, who she would _want_ to give it to her, was giving a different ring to a different woman. One she herself had just picked.

“We should get back.” Rose yanked the ring off her finger and set it back in its spot, turning her back on the case and stepping away. “Thank you for- well.”

“Of course.” The Princess locked the case again, and they made their way back to the vault entrance, stepping out to where the soldiers still stood, both snapping to attention at the sight of their Princess. “Shoot! I forgot to pick a tiara to go with it,” she snapped her fingers. “Can you find your own way back?”

Rose nodded, wrinkling her nose. “D’you need any-”

“No, I’m good, thanks. See you later!” And the Princess disappeared back inside the vault, leaving Rose standing awkwardly with the guards, who stared at her impassively.

Clearing her throat, Rose pointed towards the stairs. “I’ll just be going, won’t I?”

Turning on her heel, she walked up the flight sedately – then ran back to the suite, trying desperately to hold back the tears until she reached the safety of her bed.

* * *

**_Monday, April 22nd_ **

He spent the next three days courting Reinette at every turn, doing his best to charm her as he made preparations to propose.

She wasn’t his first choice by any means, but she was the best he had, and since he’d sent all the others away, really his only option. Abdicating, as appealing as the idea was, wasn’t feasible – besides, it wouldn’t look good for Donna’s first act as Queen to be throwing him in the dungeon and having him executed.

If nothing else, his niece and nephew would cry and miss him – he hoped.

So, out of time, options, and the will to keep fighting the inevitable, he put his best foot forward. He took her into Geneva for the Opera, some horrible thing all in Italian he detested and she adored. Sarah arranged for them to go into the Gallifreyan History Museum afterhours to wander through the exhibits, and he told her some of his country’s origins and legends. They went horseback riding and picnicking, taking a horse-drawn carriage along the border road that ran along the boundary between Gallifrey, France, and in a few spots, Switzerland.

Conversation came fairly easily, and he found they had a great many things in common, including views on policy and politics.

She was just as Rose had promised – technically perfect, with one glaringly obvious fault.

She wasn’t Rose.

Well, and that she was French. _Okay, two faults._

He could learn to live with her nationality, given that they shared a border and her language was the country’s second official, after English and even before Gallifreyan.

If only he could forget about Rose, then everything would be almost perfect.

He’d tasked Donna with picking a ring from the Archives, reasonably certain that if he thought too hard about any of this, he would run for the hills and never return, or fake his own death, or something equally dramatic to get away from it all.

The box it sat in burned in his pocket as they walked along the lakeshore. His heart was pounding, breath catching, stomach rioting – and not in the happy way Rose promised.

 _Rose_.

He stopped dead at the thought, his heart quietly breaking as considered what he’d been trying to make himself do since they reached the shore.

“Your Majesty? Is something wrong?” Reinette asked, turning back to where he was frozen. Genuine concern colored her tone, but he could barely hear her through the rushing in his ears.

_Yes – you’re not who I want. What do I do? What do I say?_

In the end, he had no choice. Unable to make his knee bend, he merely fished the box out of his pocket and held it towards her, trembling. “Will you marry me?”

She didn’t immediately respond, eyes darting between himself and the box, and when she finally met his gaze, a softness rested there he didn’t appreciate. “Are you sure? That I’m the one you want?”

“Yes,” he choked out, unable to say anything more.

After a moment she nodded, sighing softly. “Then, yes. Yes, I will marry you.”

It wasn’t anything like the movies, or like he might have, on very rare occasions, pictured. No crying, no kissing, no declarations of love. He slid the ring on her finger, kissed her knuckles, and they turned back towards the palace.

_Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown, indeed._


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to heat up, as the moment of truth draws closer.

**_Tuesday, April 23rd_ **

Tuesday found Rose antsy and miserable. They’d gotten confirmation from Sarah Jane the previous evening that Reinette had accepted the proposal, leaving Rose slightly nauseous and depressed. She kept trying to remind herself that this meant she’d succeeded, she’d pulled off the greatest match of her career, that she could keep her business and her flat and her reputation and not have to live with her Mum.

It didn’t help.

With nothing to do, she and Mel were entertaining themselves in the main room of their suite, Mel on the couch with her laptop as Rose sat near the roaring fireplace, watching the normally-amusing expressions her friend was making at the screen.

“What’re you doing?”

“Words with Friends. Bloody Ace just played ‘oxyphenbutazone’. How does she even know what that _is_?!”

“Beats the hell out of me. What is it?”

Mel scowled at her screen, muttering under her breath for a moment before replying, “A medication- an NSAID. I’m telling you, she’s cheating!”

“Then stop playing with her,” Rose offered for at least the dozenth time, shaking her head at her friends’ stubbornness. “That’s why I did- she’s impossible to win against.”

“Nothing is impossible. Ugh. How can I possibly use Q, J, K, M, or G? Argh!”

Feeling restless and unsettled, Rose unfolded herself from the chair and moved towards the door. “I’m going to go into town- do you want anything?”

“Vowels!”

Sighing and shaking her head at Mel’s focus, she grabbed her jacket and purse from beside the door and stepped out into the hall, almost running into the Princess. “Oh! Your Highness, I’m sorry,” Rose yelped, dipping into a wobbly curtsey. “I didn’t see you.”

“It’s fine,” the redhead smiled wanly, glancing her over. “Going out?”

“Um, yes, I was going into town- unless there’s something I can do for you?” _Please say no, please say no._

The Princess grimaced, but only said, “If you stop by the Bakery, I recommend you try the shortbread – it’s like your Millionaire’s shortbread, only it’s peanut butter instead of caramel. Tastes like shortbread wrapped in a Reece’s cup. It’s to _die_ for.”

“I’ll be sure to,” Rose chirped, making a mental note to bring some back for her. “Thank you for the suggestion!”

With a nod the Princess swept off, and bundling her jacket tighter around her, Rose started down the stairs.

“Oh! D’you need something, Miss?”

Bill, their designated driver-slash-gopher hurried forward to meet her just before she made it out the doors. She was a helpful, bubbly young woman whose company and chatter Rose enjoyed – usually.

“I was just going to walk into town. D’you think it’s too far?” Rose asked, biting her lip. It hadn’t seemed so driving in, but she also didn’t want to get stuck halfway down. That would probably be enough to set her off into a total meltdown.

The younger girl tilted her head in thought, then shrugged. “No. But if you want me to pick you up when you’re finished just give me a call.”

“Will do, thanks.”

Rose stepped out into the cool spring morning, biting wind whipping at her hair and clothes.

It made it easy to pretend the tears were from her eyes watering.

* * *

Rose huddled inside her coat, wandering up and down the main street staring into shop windows. For being the capital, Arcadia still had that small-town feel – all charming cafes and shops, no obvious chain brands. Even after three weeks she couldn’t get over how _friendly_ everyone was, greeting her with bright _good morning!_ s as they opened their doors and displayed their wares.

 _I could get used to this._ Rose had always considered herself a city girl, growing up in London, but something about the peacefulness of a place where everyone knew everyone tugged at her heartstrings. _God, maybe I am getting old. Heaven help me if I turn into my mother._

The most delicious and mouthwatering aroma she’d ever smelled hit her like a ton of bricks, and she stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk to close her eyes and inhale. She followed her nose into the bakery, hungry eyes taking in row upon row of incredible-looking treats in the case.

“Hello, love,” the woman behind the counter laughed, as Rose nearly flattened herself against the glass. “See something you like?”

“All of it,” Rose answered breathlessly, bending down to see better. “Oh, these are _lovely_.”

“Thank you, dear.”

The woman let her drool in peace for a few minutes as she carefully examined each item, before finally prompting, “Did you want to try something?”

“Um…” The Princess’s words from earlier flashed through Rose’s mind, and she wrinkled her nose. “I was told to try something that was shortbread and peanut butter, maybe?”

“Ah, I thought you were from the Palace,” she laughed. “Donna send you round?”

Rose shrugged, cheeks pinkening. “That obvious?”

Susan, or so her name tag said, pulled out a bag and started to fill it with the dark squares. “I’ve seen you around with Ian,” she shrugged, “and their love of these is legendary. I swear they buy half of every batch I make, between the two of them.”

Fumbling with her money, Rose could only nod, though she wondered at the casual use of the royal’s names while trying to ignore the ache in her chest.

“We’re cousins,” Susan said, as if reading her mind. “Sarah, their mum, and mine were all sisters. I moved here when Sarah did, opened the bakery. Not a drop of royal blood in me, but still family.”

“D’you see each other a lot?”

“Few times a month. One or the other’ll stop in – too often and it gets to be a madhouse in here. I go to dinner at Donna’s once a month, that’s enough for me. I’m perfectly happy to be anonymous, though it never hurts when their photo is taken eating one of my treats,” Susan winked, handing over a bag stuffed with the treat. “Your money’s no good here, the Palace has a tab. Better scarf’em down before you get back, those two’ll eat them all given a chance. It’s a good way to bribe either, if you ever need it.”

Rose accepted the bag, sticking a tenner in the tip jar with a smile. “Thanks, but I’ll be gone after the Coronation, so don’t overbake,” she said, trying for amused. _Don’t cry, don’t cry, Do. Not. Cry._

“What? I don’t- aren’t you going to be queen?”

She nearly dropped the bag in surprise, inhaling sharply at the stab the shopkeeper’s words sent through her heart. “What? No! No, I- I’m… I’m a matchmaker, they hired me to _find_ the queen. I’m not- I mean- I’m hardly _queen_ material!” Which was half the problem.

“Oh.” Susan’s brow furrowed for a moment before smoothing over, an apologetic smile on her face. “Sorry, I must have misunderstood. I thought _you_ were- well, never mind.”

“It’s okay.” Rose checked her watch, and gave a smile too bright to be true. “Sorry, I’m running a bit behind schedule, but it was _lovely_ to meet you!”

“You too,” Susan called, but she was already hurrying out the door, tears pricking at her eyes once again.

 _Stop it,_ she told herself firmly, starting back towards the road to the palace. _You’re a matchmaker. He’s a king. Just because they call you_ Queen of Hearts _doesn’t make you suitable for actual royalty._

* * *

Ian wandered through the palace, hands buried in his pockets. He hadn’t seen Rose in days, mostly by design, in the vain hope that the old adage _out of sight, out of mind_ would hold true.

So far, it hadn’t worked. It just made him want to see her more.

The sound of activity coming from the guest wing made him pause, frowning as he searched his memory. The next occupants of the wing would be visiting dignitaries and royals who were coming for the wedding/coronation, but the earliest scheduled arrival was Thursday afternoon – so why was anyone back there two days before that?

Easing the door to the wing open, he crept along the hall, feeling ridiculous sneaking through his own palace. The door to the first suite was open, and seemed to be the source of the noise. Poking his head in, he found two women and several servants – one of the women was Sarah, directing the servants with the luggage, and the other was a fifty-something blonde dressed in blue jeans, a pink top, and a denim jacket in a slightly different shade from the jeans.

“Thank you for coming early,” his aunt was saying, “and I hope you don’t mind we’d like to keep you secret until tomorrow. There are so many moving parts, and if we play our cards right, Ian will-”

The door creaked, making Ian wince and catching the women’s attention.

“Your Majesty!” Sarah’s eyes went wide, dropping into a curtsey at the same time as the servants, the unknown blonde following suit a few seconds later.

Something about the woman was familiar, as if they had met once upon a time, and he wracked his brain trying to remember.

“Hello,” he stepped into the room, glaring at the door for giving him away and costing him the chance to hear what he was supposed to do.

“Sir, this is… an old friend of mine from London,” Sarah said brightly, eyes darting between him and the woman. “Jackie. Jackie, this is His Majesty King Ian.”

“Pleasure,” the woman, Jackie, dipped into another wobbly curtsey.

Ian nodded, distracted, as he tried to figure out how he might know her. “Yes, of course. Are you here for the festivities?”

The two women exchanged glances.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said, though the upwards lilt of her voice made it sound like a question.

Gazing between the two, he distinctly felt as if he was missing something. “What’s going on? Why is she a secret?”

Sarah’s blank expression for the two seconds it took her to come up with a lie were telling. “Oh! She… is a reporter as well, here to cover the wedding, coronation, et cetera, but since no one else is here yet I thought it best to keep her under wraps!”

Jackie nodded eagerly in agreement, and though Ian arched an eyebrow, he decided to let them keep their secret.

_Not like it changes anything._

“All right. I’d best be off,” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, leaving the room possibly more confused than he entered it.

_Sarah, what the hell are you up to?_

* * *

He decided to try down by the lake, opening the door to the patio and running right into the object of his distraction.

“Oh!” They both yelped, Ian grabbing her by instinct in an effort to keep her upright. They both managed to stay on their feet, Rose’s shocked gaze staring up at his own openmouthed expression.

His eyes dropped to her lips, going slightly wide when she instinctively licked them, and when he returned to her own eyes, she was staring at _his_ lips.

Hope flared in his chest, brilliant and wondrous, and he couldn’t have stopped himself for anything in the world as his head dipped, moving closer to her own to give her a chance to pull away.

Her hands were still fisted in his shirt where she had grabbed to keep from falling, and his treacherous brain tried to convince him she was pulling him closer.

Heart hammering in his throat, close enough for her breath to puff against his lips, he brushed his lips over hers once, twice, and when she didn’t pull away, instead almost seemed to move closer, he surged forward to press them together in truth – only to feel air, and a moment later, he landed on his ass on the polished floor.

“What?” Dazed, he found himself sprawled over Rose, who was blushing and giggling.

“My shoe slipped,” she said, apology and explanation, her tongue peeking out from between her teeth and wiping every thought from his mind. “Sorry.”

“Are you all right?” Belated realizing he was still pressed against her, and that he never wanted to move except closer, he reluctantly pushed himself up, offering her a hand and pulling her into his arms when she accepted.

“Hello,” she whispered, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes, and his breath caught at her beauty. Windswept, and dressed more casually than he had ever seen her, she was stunning. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to sweep her in his arms and take her to bed. He wanted to find the Archbishop and have him marry them as they were. He wanted- _her_.

 _Marry me. Be mine. Let’s run away together._ All hovered on the tip of his tongue, but then he remembered that she was engaged, that she had to go home and plan a wedding to someone else. Even if an attraction existed, he had no right to tear her away from a man she loved.

 _It’s just an infatuation. It will fade with time_ , he tried to convince himself, regretfully letting her go and stepping back.

“Are you hurt?”

Physically she appeared fine, though her falling expression suggested her feelings were not. _I’m sorry, sweetheart._

"No, thank you,” she said stiffly, crossing her arms and causing the bag she held to crinkle. “Oh!” Opening it up, she held the bag out to him. “I met your cousin,” she said, somewhat unnecessarily as the scent of shortbread, peanut butter, and chocolate wafted up. “Would you like one?”

 _I’d like_ you. “Yes, thank you.” Unable to have what he really wanted, he accepted a square. “I hope she made you put it on the Palace tab.”

“She did,” Rose confirmed, closing the bag again and keeping her head down. “I heard… that Reinette accepted,” she continued quietly. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” The treat, one of his favorites, turned to ash in his mouth.

After a moment of awkward silence, Rose curtseyed slightly. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to…” Not bothering to finish the thought she fled, ducking her head and hurrying away as he tried to process what had just happened.

_Was she crying?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, thank you for your lovely comments and enthusiasm for this story and this couple! I so enjoyed writing them, and have already started on a sequel that has spiraled wildly out of control, haha.
> 
> Just a note - this story is completely written and has been for some time.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some misunderstandings are resolved, but that doesn't automatically undo the damage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last day of the fic! (No, no, stop panicking, the last *day* not the last chapter. Still 2 more!) These last 3 chapters all take place on Wednesday. Buckle up - we've got a wild ride from here on out!

**_Wednesday, April 24th_ **

Wednesday dawned bright and early, and once again, Ian watched from his desk chair.

In just under twelve hours now, he would be introducing Gallifrey to Reinette, introducing her as their soon-to-be queen.

The very idea made him heartsick, but he was determined to put it behind him – except his mind refused to yield.

It drifted, giving him unwelcome visions of an impossible future with Rose. A kiss, in front of the Archbishop and the national telly station, presenting to his subjects their new Queen. Being coronated together, taking nearly the same vows they’d just made to each other and making them, together, to his people. A newborn cradled in her arms, more gorgeous than ever despite her pain and exhaustion, how he’d never known it was possible to love someone so much, so _immediately_. A lifetime of happiness, service to his country that didn’t feel like a sacrifice, not with her at his side, in his heart, in his bed.

 _There’s me_ , she’d promised him so earnestly. She’d had a caveat, ‘until you find the one’, neither of them knowing at the time that she was that one.

 _Please don’t make me go through with this,_ he begged the fading stars. _Please don’t show her to me then take her away._

He received no response.

* * *

Rose lay curled up in her bed, crying softly as she buried her face in one of the extra pillows. The King would announce his engagement that night, and she didn’t know if she had the heart to be there.

Mel called her name from the other room but she ignored her, not wanting her friend to see her in such a state.

 _You are a professional,_ Rose lectured herself, blowing her nose into a tissue clutched tightly in her hand. _Act like it!_

“Oh, _Rose_ ,” Mel’s sympathetic voice came from near the door, only bringing more tears to Rose’s eyes as she sank further into her cocoon.

“I caught something,” Rose sniffled, adding in a cough for effect, not sure Mel would buy it but needing to try for dignity’s sake.

Her friend perched on the side of the bed, clucking sympathetically. “I know.” Her kind smile said she knew exactly what Rose had ‘caught’, which only served to make Rose whine and pull the covers over her head.

“He’s in love with Reinette,” she mumbled, voice further muffled by the relative safety of her cocoon.

“No, he’s not.”

“Yes, he is! And he should be, they had a ninety-five on the index.” Rose freed her face. “What do you mean he’s not?”

Mel shrugged. “I’ve seen him out the window a few times, usually walking alone. Doesn’t look like he’s on top of the world.”

“Don’t do that.” Rose shook her head. “Don’t give me hope. Oh, God, do you think he knows?!”

“What, that you’re in love with him?”

Rose flinched, the question a truth far more honest than she was ready to handle. “I don’t know. I _do_ know that you’re in love with each other. But… it’s not your fault.”

Rose sat up at that, brow furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mel gave a sheepish smile. “I… ran you through the program. Ninety-eight point five. And honestly, I think _that_ is just because of your background.”

“What do I do? What- what am I supposed to _do_?”

“Tell him?”

Rose let out a scream of frustration, pulling a pillow over her face. “I can’t do that,” she wailed. “It has to- it has to come from him. I _can’t_.”

“Okay,” her friend said soothingly, tugging the pillow away from Rose’s face, “but… can you live with him marrying her instead?”

Rose had no answer for that one.

* * *

After a tasteless lunch he shared with Reinette, who spent the entire time chattering on about her plans as queen and didn’t seem to notice his lack of interest or response, he went for another walk through the Palace.

He found himself back in the guest wing, rapping on the door of the mystery woman Jackie.

“Yes?” she threw open the door, eyes going wide at the sight of him. “You’re the King!”

“I am.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, before she suddenly dipped into a curtsey. “Um, can I help you?” she asked, uncertain, and Ian shook his head.

“No, I… I don’t know why I came here. Sorry to disturb you,” he turned to go, when she stopped him.

“Now, hang on,” she touched his arm before quickly pulling back. “Sorry, but… clearly you came here for a reason. Cuppa tea?”

He let the woman pull him into the room, guide him to the chair next to the sofa and began preparing him tea.

“I hear you’re to be married,” Jackie started, handing him a teacup and settling on the couch. Today she was dressed in a tracksuit, bright pink, making herself right at home.

“Saturday. We announce the engagement tonight.” He stared down into his mug, wishing he had his flask and could add something to it.

“You don’t look too happy about that.”

Not meeting her eye, he admitted, “She’s not the one I want.”

“Why not? Why don’t you marry the one you _do_?”

“She’s engaged to someone else.”

Jackie snorted. “So? You’re a bleeding king. Pardon my language, but that’s hard to beat.”

“She doesn’t care about that sort of thing. She’s not… she’s not like that.” Ian sighed. “Besides, if she’s happy, who am I to interfere? Maybe I’ll learn to love Reinette. Anyway, I’m sure my family considers her to be much more suitable than… than the woman I want.”

“D’you want to know what I think?” She didn’t wait for him to respond. “I think life’s too short for that. You know, you meet someone, you think you’ve got the rest of your lives to spend together… but you _don’t_. I lost my Pete when our daughter was just a baby. It’s been her and me for _thirty_ years ‘cause I knew I’d never love no one like I did him. And as for what your family wants… so what? My daughter, she’s got this old boyfriend who I love to pieces. He’s family, the three of us are really all we’ve got. If they got married, it’d make my day, right? Only she won’t have him, and he went off and found someone else and now they’re getting married. And Martha’s a lovely young woman, they do seem happy, but… I always imagined Mickey’d be _my_ son-in-law someday. But I’ve got to let that go, and let my girl find someone else. She spends too much time setting up other people- oh. Well, point is, you’ve got to fight for the love you want.”

Ian’s head jerked up, mouth falling open as he studied the woman. “You’re Rose’s mother.” It made sense, from the vague familiarity to the strong resemblance. Plus, the pink tracksuit closely matched the scarf Rose had been looking at when they met at the festival.

Jackie’s eyes went wide, a guilty expression flashing across her face and confirming it even as she tried to stutter, “Oh, no, I don’t think-”

“You are!” He stood, mind racing as he tried to process what she had said. “D’you mean- Rose- she’s not getting married? To Mickey?”

“Really, you seem to be misunderstanding-”

“Please!” Ian shouted, voice lowering to a rough tone as he repeated, “ _Please_. Is Rose involved with someone?”

Still looking terribly guilty, Jackie slowly shook her head.

“Thank you.” On impulse, he darted forward and kissed the woman’s head. If all went well, she’d be his mother-in-law by Monday. “Oh, _thank you_.”

And he ran out of the room.

* * *

It took time, but eventually Mel was able to cajole Rose out of bed, into casual clothes, and out onto the couch. She was still teary-eyed, but she’d been fed and was now no longer crying, though tears occasionally leaked out.

A banging on the door jerked Rose out of her half-asleep state, as she exchanged worried looks with Mel.

“Rose!” The King’s shout echoed through the thick doors. “Rose, I need to talk to you!”

“What do you want me to do?” Mel asked, as Rose scrambled up and towards her bedroom.

“I’m not here, or I’m sleeping, I don’t know,” she hissed over her shoulder. “Make something up!”

Shutting her door almost all the way, she peered out as Mel let the King into their suite.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”

“Yeah, is Rose here? I need to speak to her at once.”

Mel’s glance darted towards Rose’s bedroom, and she shut the door a little more to keep from being spotted. “No, Sir. She… I believe she said she was going for a walk.”

“A walk? Where? Please, this is important.”

“I don’t know, Sir. She mentioned the lake, but also Arcadia… She might have walked into town again. Can I take a message?”

He nodded sharply. “Tell her I must speak to her _at once_. Before the ball. It is critically important.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Message given he practically sprinted from the room, and Rose gave him a minute to be sure he was really gone before creeping back out. “What was that about?”

“He wants to talk to you.” Mel shrugged, crossing her arms. “I think you should.”

“No.” Rose shook her head, sighing softly. “No. I… I bought a ticket home. The train leaves at eight. I need you to cover for me.”

“Rose-”

“Please,” she spoke over her. “I don’t want to hear it. Just… please.” Returning to her room, she shut the door.

* * *

Ian stopped every servant he saw and ordered them to give Rose the same message, running his fingers through his hair anxiously as he stood in the hallway, uncertain of where to search first.

“Your Majesty? What is going on?”

He turned to find Reinette behind him, peering out from her suite. After Monday afternoon’s proposal she’d been checked out of her hotel and moved into the Palace in preparation for the announcement.

“Nothing.”

Her expression was soft, and she let out a little sigh. “Perhaps we should speak, _non_?”

Reluctantly Ian followed her into the room, settling on the couch beside her. “Is something wrong?”

The French beauty tilted her head, watching him carefully. “You are in love with her.”

“Her who?” he responded automatically, even as he wondered if he was really that obvious. _How can everyone_ but _Rose know I’m in love with her? And so easily?_

“Your Majesty…” Reinette placed her hand over his own, squeezing gently. “We cannot go through with this. You are too in love with another woman. And… and I deserve someone as in love with me as you are with her. I have faith it will work out.” And she pulled the ring off her finger, offering it out to him.

Ian’s shoulders slumped, unable to fight for something he didn’t even want. Especially with what he _did_ want so close to coming true. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, _cher_ , but we could never truly make each other happy. I hope we may remain friends, but that, I think, is all we are destined to be.”

“Yeah.” Taking the ring, he ran his other hand over his face and sighed. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome. I will make my arrangements, and leave in the morning. _Bonne chance, et felicitations_.”

Ian climbed to his feet, pocketing the ring and giving her a hug. “And you.”

Returning to the hallway, his spirits brightened at realizing no impediment existed now to keep him from Rose. For her mother to be in the Palace, Sarah and Donna must have invited her – and they would have no reason to do that if they didn’t know where his heart stood, and support it.

_Rose is going to be my queen! Now, I just have to find her._


	15. Chapter 15

**_Wednesday, April 24th (continued)_ **

Ian spent the rest of the afternoon searching the palace grounds, calling and texting Rose, to no avail. He would have continued to search, had his valet not found him and almost forced him back to the Palace to dress for the Ball.

Now, they were ten minutes into the party, and he had yet to see her – though his heart quickened at the sight of her assistant.

“Mel!”

“Congratulations, Your Majesty,” the woman curtseyed, dipping her head.

He waved a hand impatiently. “No need. Where’s Rose?”

“Still getting ready, I think, Sir.”

“Very well. When you see her, tell her I need to speak to her _immediately_.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Feeling antsy, he decided to run up to her suite and talk to her anyway, heading in that direction only to get caught by Donna, who kept a smile on her face even as she gripped his elbow and steered him into a relatively private corner of the main ballroom.

“Yes?”

“Where’s Reinette?”

 _Shit_. “We called it off – mutually.”

Donna’s expression lit like the sun, making him breathe a little easier; he didn’t want to get yelled at, not tonight. “You’re going to ask Rose?”

“Yes, as soon as I find her. I’ve been trying most of the afternoon – I know that was her mother, by the way.”

“I was going to tell you when you got your head out of your arse and admitted your feelings,” she shrugged. “Where is Rose?”

“I don’t _know_. Mel says she’s getting ready.”

“You don’t believe her?” Donna didn’t wait for an answer, merely turned and waved the girl over. Ian was quietly grateful she was willing to take charge; he was finding it difficult to concentrate or think around the butterflies.

“Good evening Your Highness, Your Majesty,” Mel curtseyed again, looking decidedly nervous.

“Where’s Rose?”

The woman swallowed. “I told His Majesty-”

“Mel, please.”

“I think she was going to visit Reinette on her way down?”

Ian closed his eyes. “She’s going home, isn’t she?”

The assistant nodded slowly, looking ashamed. “I’m sorry for lying, Sir, but she asked me to – begged me. She had a family emergency, her mother-”

“Mel, is that you?” Jackie called, and the redhead’s expression changed to one of horror.

“Mrs. Tyler?”

The two women embraced, the younger looking shocked. “I- I don’t understand!”

“Let me be clear,” Ian snapped. “Reinette and I have called it off. I plan to ask Rose to marry me, which is why I’ve been trying to find her all day. I can’t bloody well do that if she’s on a train back to London!”

“She turned her phone off,” Mel whispered. “Her train leaves at eight.”

Nodding sharply, Ian moved towards the doors, only for his sister to physically haul him back. “You can’t leave.”

“The fuck I can’t! Donna-”

“I will go,” she cut him off sternly. “I will bring her back – I’ll stop the bloody train if I have to. But you _cannot_ leave. So smile, and mingle, and leave the rest to me. Here.” Donna pressed a crushed velvet ring box into his hand. “This is for her – she fell in love with it when helping me pick Reinette’s ring.”

Ian’s heart dropped, fury rising through him at her inconsideration. “Donna! You knew we were in love and made her pick out _Reinette’s ring?_ That’s absolutely callous.”

“Oh don’t be so dramatic,” she rolled her eyes. “How else were we supposed to know what ring she would want? It was the only excuse I had to get her down into the Archives.”

He had no response for that, merely checked his watch and saw the time – twenty minutes to eight. “You need to _go_. Bring her back.”

“Fine. You go eat something, try to sop up all that scotch. She deserves a relatively sober proposal.”

And she turned on her heel, stalking towards the door.

All he could do was hope she would arrive on time.

_Please don’t let Rose get on that train._

* * *

Rose sat quietly on a bench at the station, her luggage tucked around her as she sniffled. She only had another five minutes until her train arrived, another five minutes until she could flee home. _At least my reputation’s intact_ , she thought, before snorting. _At least, until they all bloody find out I fell in love with my client._

Rubbing her arms for warmth, she let her gaze drift across the other waiting passengers and towards the station, only for her jaw to drop when Princess Donna, dressed to the nines, came out onto the platform. “What the…”

“There you are,” the Princess snapped, striding over towards her, as Rose hurriedly stood and tried to curtsey. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I have to go home, there’s been an emergency. My mum-”

The Princess waved a hand, silencing her. “Bullshit. We had a deal.”

“And I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain,” Rose said shakily, nonetheless standing tall. “The King has found a wife. The announcement will be made any minute I imagine. There’s nothing else for me to do. I really-”

“Do you remember what I said? First over Skype, then when we met in person?”

Rose nodded but didn’t reply, unsure of what specifically she meant.

“I said I- _we_ want to find Ian happiness and love. Reinette… she would make a good queen and wife – but not for Ian. And, maybe, under different circumstances, they could have been happy enough. Sarah told you we would accept anyone who made him _happy_ – regardless of background.”

“I don’t understand,” she mumbled, refusing to name the thing bubbling up in her chest as hope. _It’s probably indigestion from that fried sandwich thing I had_.

The Princess’s face softened, and she stepped forward to take Rose’s hand. “Please come back to the Palace with me. Please attend the Ball.”

Rose’s lip trembled. “I can’t watch him marry someone else.”

“Come back with me so he doesn’t have to.”

As far as arguments went, that was perhaps the most compelling one Rose had ever heard.

“Okay.”

* * *

When they returned to the Palace she was led immediately to her suite, the Princess staying with her. Upon entering her eyes went wide at the veritable army of ‘glam’ people waiting.

“Right, we don’t have much time,” the Princess ordered the room, “but you know what you need to do.”

And, as Rose was whisked behind a curtain and undressed by one of the women, she settled on the couch with a magazine.

“You don’t have to stay,” Rose said, yelping when the woman unhooked her bra. “I can undress myself, thank you!”

“You might as well get used to it,” Princess Donna, called, “and as for staying – this is as far as you’re leaving my sight. They’re being paid very handsomely for their speed – let them work.”

Rose let them dress her in a blue strapless gown, one that coincidentally almost exactly matched the ring she’d loved in the Archive on Sunday.

“What exactly is happening?” she finally asked, closing her eyes as two women curled her hair and a third did her makeup.

“Don’t play stupid. It doesn’t become you,” was all the Princess said, still flipping pages in the magazine. “If you haven’t figured it out, I can’t help you.”

Butterflies took off in Rose’s stomach, ideas swirling, but the thing that made her heart try to beat itself out of her chest was a delicate sapphire tiara being nestled on top of her head. “I can’t wear this.”

“Technically, no,” the Princess said, coming up to bend over Rose’s shoulder and stare at Rose’s reflection. “But that technicality won’t last long, so I wouldn’t worry about it.” Then, after a moment, a nod. “She’s ready.”

Rose’s stomach violently disagreed, but silver pumps were slipped onto her feet and she was eased upright. “Okay,” she said, very softly, and led to the door.

“I’ll see you in a few minutes,” the Princess promised, kissing her cheek. “It will all be _fine_.”

Rose nodded, swallowing, waiting until the Princess reached the bottom of the stairs before starting down herself, _very_ carefully. Tonight was too important to accidentally kill herself wearing heels.

She stepped into the ballroom hesitantly, eyes darting around the room. They made it roughly halfway, and then she caught sight of the King and all the breath left her body. He was dressed impeccably, looking like royalty for the first time. He had on what appeared to be a formal military uniform covered in medals, with a sash. He’d had a haircut, not too short, but taming the curls just enough to fit his royal persona.

 _I hope after the wedding he lets them grow back out again_.

The King caught sight of her then, and this time the world stopped as his expression went from shock to pleasure to pure, unadulterated joy. He moved forward towards her, almost as if by instinct, abandoning the older couple he’d been conversing with without a thought.

She didn’t realize she was moving until they met halfway, hands clasping between them.

“Rose,” he whispered, caressing the letters of her name, a hope and a prayer all in one, and she’d never loved the sound of her name as much as she did in that moment, hoped he would _always_ say it that way.

“Hi,” she whispered back, giggling a little with giddy joy and nerves. “How’s it going?”

He laughed softly, eyes raking over her as if he couldn’t believe she was real. “Better, now you’re here. You look… stunning.”

“Thank you.”

“I… have to go make a speech. And an announcement,” he continued with that same soft tone full of wonder. “What do I say?”

“You say whatever’s in your heart,” she counseled, brushing her fingertips over the center of his chest. “Let it guide you. You can’t go wrong if you follow your heart.”

He nodded sharply, breath catching as he lifted her left hand to his mouth and pressed a tiny kiss at the base of her ring finger. “I may hold you to that.”

“You better.”

He reluctantly backed away from her, eyes never leaving her as he cleared his throat. “May I have a moment of everyone’s time?”

All noise ceased immediately, the room turning to give the King their full attention.

“Thank you. First, I wish to thank all of you for your attendance tonight, and your support of me over this past year. Losing my father was difficult for all of us – he was a wonderful king, one who will be missed by all.

“But tonight is not about the past – it is about the future. The future of Gallifrey, and my personal future. As you may know, a wedding- _my_ wedding- is planned for this Saturday morning, to immediately precede the coronation. What you may _not_ know is that I have had… no small amount of difficulty finding my date to both events.”

He paused, and the crowd laughed, Rose included.

“And not to go too far into detail that ultimately doesn’t matter, I have found her. The issue – or, I suppose, _question_ , is if she is willing to do so. To be my partner, my friend, my wife, my Queen. To share this life, which is so special and unique, and certainly not for the faint of heart.” The King held her gaze the entire time he spoke, his tone a soft murmur that cascaded over Rose with all the warmth of a summer shower, filling her completely.

Unable to do anything but smile, paralyzed by fear and nerves and happiness and doubts, she stayed rooted to the ground out of fear that should she move, she would either trip and fall flat on her face, or discover that, perhaps, Reinette was standing just behind her, and his beautiful speech had nothing to do with her.

“Rose,” he beckoned her forward, putting one fear to rest, and unable to resist him, tired of being so _far_ from him, she did not so much walk forward as float nearly into his arms.

“Yes?” she asked, breathless, as he took her hands in his. She was pleased to find them both trembling, to know that he was as overcome as she was.

“Darling,” he spoke softly, these words seemingly just for the two of them, “I don’t know quite when, but somewhere in this mad journey I’ve fallen desperately in love with you. Your spirit, your kindness, your dedication and endless optimism have entirely bewitched me. You have convinced me of the existence of true love with every smile, every laugh. Even when we argued, I did not feel so much as I was fighting _against_ you as I was fighting _with_ you. I find you constantly on my mind, occupying my every thought. You make me want to be better, to stand up and face my destiny, when all I’ve ever done was run away from it. You… somewhere along the way, you’ve become my best friend. With you at my side, I can be happy at home. Monarchy, at its heart, is a lonely, isolating fate. But with you, I no longer feel caged.”

Rose smiled brightly, tearing up as she recognized the modified Queen lyrics. Then she gasped as he carefully dropped to one knee, letting go of her right hand to pull something out of his pocket.

It was a velvet ring box, and when he flicked it open, she was somehow both stunned and not to find the ring she’d fallen for on Sunday.

“Rose Tyler,” he said, voice rough with emotion, “Queen of Hearts, will you be my wife?”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose answers Ian's question, deciding what sort of life she wants to lead.

Rose stared down at him, mouth hanging open as she tried to process the scene in front of her. This man, this wonderful, kind man she was in love with, was asking her to marry him.

She tried to say _yes!_ , tried to make her mouth move, but nothing came out as reality all but came and smacked her in the face.

He wasn’t a man – he was a _King_. A king, with a country, one that was far from London and the only life she’d ever had. Far from her Mum, her friends, her business. _I’d have to give up Matchmaking_. Could she leave that? Could she be so selfish as to abandon her mother?

She was all Jackie had in the world, really, the only family left. Sure they had cousin Mo, and a small smattering of aunts and uncles, but it had been just the two of them almost Rose’s entire life.

Her mouth moved, no sound coming out, and the King’s happy expression was slowly fading to worry the longer she stayed silent. She wanted him, that was not in question, but could she make the sacrifices necessary?

And would his family, his people even accept her? It certainly seemed like the Princess did, given she’d fetched Rose from the station, but did that mean she really _wanted_ her? Or was she just so desperate not to become queen that at this point anyone would do?

Tearing her eyes away from the King, she sought out the Princess and their aunt – and felt her heart stop.

Four women stood together, all smiling and waiting expectantly. Sarah Jane, in an elegant plum color, stood next to her niece, the Princess in emerald. On the other end was Mel, looking no different than when Rose had last seen her, in a lovely shade of mint that went perfectly with her hair.

But the fourth member, the one whose presence brought tears to Rose’s eyes, was none other than Jackie Tyler.

_Mum?_

Rose blinked rapidly, trying to clear away her tears, but her mother remained there, dressed in a delicate shade of pink and beaming more than the rest of them. She caught Rose’s eye and nodded, waving her hand in the universal _come on!_ gesture, and Rose sniffled, fighting back a laugh.

Lowering her gaze back to the King, her doubts and fears melted away.

“Yes,” she whispered, and his face lit like the sun. “Yes,” she repeated, stronger this time, a smile growing across her face as she let out a happy giggle. “Yes, I’ll marry you!”

“Oh thank God,” he whispered, surging up and wrapping his arms around her in a hug, cradling her tightly to him. “You were starting to scare me.”

“Sorry,” Rose replied in kind, tightening her own grip on him. “I was scaring myself for a second.”

They swayed in place, giggling together, for a long moment before-

“Give her the ring already!” the Princess shouted, and they broke apart, laughing.

“Right, the ring,” the King took only a small step back but it still felt like too far, Rose following him like a magnet and making him smile. “Hand, please.”

Rose presented it, pleased that despite the nerves and anticipation swirling through her, it stayed steady as he gently slid the ring on over her knuckles to settle at the base.

“Perfect fit,” he murmured, raising it to his mouth and pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles, making her giggle once again from happiness.

“Yes, we are.”

Resting her hand against his chest the King held her gaze, wrapping his other arm around her waist and drawing her close. “May I kiss you?”

“Only if you promise to never stop,” she murmured, meeting him halfway.

It was a bit awkward, knowing their first proper kiss was happening in front of over a hundred people and their families to boot, but Rose was too damn happy to care. Little more than a gentle press of lips, she still ranked it as one of the best of her life, given they were too busy laughing to do it properly.

The King spun away from her then, keeping hold of her hand and showing her to their audience. “May I present your future Queen,” he announced, as if any doubts might exist, but the room burst into applause and cheers nevertheless.

Rose thought the smile might permanently freeze on her face, and was perfectly happy with the thought.

“May I have this dance?”

“Of course.”

He gestured for the band to start playing, and they started to waltz, though he held her quite a bit closer than was technically proper for the style.

“I’m so happy,” he whispered, raining kisses to the side of her head closest to his lips, apparently unable to stop kissing her now that he was allowed to.

“Me too.”

They stopped in the middle of the floor, heedless of the other dancers swirling around them, and kissed again.

Just because they could.

* * *

Eventually the heavy weight of their loved ones’ gaze forced them off the dancefloor, the King _should I still call him ‘the King’? That sounds silly, doesn’t it? Ian? Ugh, that feels weird_ leading her to the table where their families were sitting, Sarah Jane and the Princess and her family next to Jackie and Mel.

“Hi, sweetheart!” her mother enthused, reaching for her, and Rose reluctantly stepped out of the King’s arms and right into her mother’s, as they held each other tight.

“Hi! What on _Earth_ are you doing here?!”

Jackie jerked her head in Sarah Jane and the Princess’s direction. “They invited me! Mel’s idea of course.”

Rose’s spine stiffened, and she shifted to glare at her assistant. “You knew my Mum was here and let me leave?!”

“I didn’t know she was _already_ here!” Mel protested. “I had _suggested_ that since Saturday was your birthday that it might be nice to bring her out, but I thought she was coming Friday morning!”

Which meant that the Princess had decided to bring Jackie in early, and Rose turned a narrowed gaze on the woman. “When exactly did this-” she gestured to herself and the King, “become the plan?”

The Princess and her aunt exchanged looks, pretending to think. “Um… around… the third?” the redhead said sweetly, and Rose’s jaw dropped.

“That was our second day here!”

The two women shrugged in unison, fighting smiles. “When we saw how quickly, how _easily_ you got under his skin, we opened ourselves to the possibility,” Sarah Jane said innocently. “We knew for sure though at the fundraiser – that it was mutual, I mean. You couldn’t take your eyes off each other.”

Rose huffed, crossing her arms and feeling played. “And you, missy, when exactly did you run _me_ through the software as a potential match?”

Mel burst into laughter. “Soon as I had numbers to run. I just thought it’d be funny, didn’t realize you’d be so compatible.”

The King sighed beside her, wrapping an arm around Rose’s waist and pulling her into his side, where she went willingly, uncrossing her arms in favor of holding him. “So you just let us spend the last two weeks miserable instead of just _telling_ us?”

“Telling you what?” his sister retorted. “You knew how you felt perfectly well, you were just too much of a coward to do anything about it. Then you refused to just _ask_ her. Don’t blame this on us!”

“Ask me? Ask me what?” Rose asked, brow furrowed, before catching sight of her ring. “I mean, something beyond the obvious?”

The Princess and Sarah Jane both gave him a pointed look, making him groan and ruffle his hair.

“I _may_ have been under the impression you were engaged,” he grumped, staring down at the floor. “I overheard you on Thursday, talking about planning a wedding.”

She burst into laughter, heart easing. “No! I was going to help my oldest friend plan _his_ wedding – though I suppose I can’t now.” For a moment, she let herself mourn the life in London she would never return to, but only a moment – her future in Gallifrey was far too bright to be sorry for long. “That’s alright! I can always Skype in, if I’ve got the time.”

“He was devastated,” Sarah Jane said knowingly, smirking at her nephew. “Wouldn’t stop sulking.”

Rose smiled up at the King, squeezing his side. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Not your fault,” he muttered, “that’s what I get for eavesdropping and jumping to assumptions. I just… resigned myself. I didn’t think I had any right to try to tempt you away from him.”

“I would’ve gone willingly,” she promised, “even if we _had_ still been together. I was in too deep with you.”

They kissed again, the table in front of them drawing out their _awwww_.

“Take a walk with me?” he whispered against her lips, and Rose nodded.

“I’d go anywhere with you.”

* * *

The ballroom hosting the engagement party was at the back of the castle, with doors that could open out onto the patio in nicer weather. Despite being late April it was still a touch too cool, but they were able to slip out through one of the doors, and suddenly, they were alone.

“Hello,” Rose laughed, as they laced their arms and meandered down the patio until they were past the ballroom.

“Hello.”

Once out of sight of his- of _their_ guests _and wasn’t that a thrill, to think they shared something- of course, now they shared an entire future_ – he tugged her to a stop, bringing her into his arms and nuzzling her nose with his.

“You’re warm,” Rose- his _fiancée, and wasn’t that a trip?_ murmured, nestling closer, and he belatedly realized she was outside on a cold night in a strapless gown.

“Hold on.” Reluctantly stepping back he eased his jacket off, mindful of the medals and ribbons decorating it as he draped it around her shoulders. “Better?”

She hummed, burying her nose in the collar, and though he couldn’t see her mouth, knew she was smiling up at him. “Thanks.”

He tugged her back to him, cupping her chin and gently angling her head up for a kiss, one she gladly surged onto her toes to lean into, daring to let his tongue trace her plump lips, loving the little gasp she gave and darting inside.

But Rose, his love, was hardly a passive participant, and it was almost obscene, how much pleasure he was drawing from a simple meeting of mouths and tongues, how easy it was to lose himself in the taste of her, holding her tighter against him.

Eventually they pulled away, and he was gratified to see her panting as heavily as he was, eyes heavy with desire.

“That was nice,” she whispered, giving him a teasing smile, tongue peeking out between her teeth.

“If you like, we can spend the rest of our lives doing that,” he rasped, brushing a flyaway hair from her face mostly for the excuse to touch her.

Rose hummed, tapping her chin in mock thought. “Pretty sure I’ve already agreed to that.”

“I may need some convincing that this is real.” He sampled her lips again, unable to get over how _right_ it all felt. “Seems legit.”

A shadow fell over her face, mood shifting to a more serious tone, and Ian sighed.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Are you sure?” she asked timidly, toying with a button on his dress shirt. “Not… not _personally_ , I don’t think, but… me. As _queen_. D’you think I can do this?”

Ian laughed, tugging her closer still. “Of course. As does everyone else, or they wouldn’t have worked so hard to stop us from making a terrible mistake. We’ll teach you what you need to know. It’ll be fine. It might be hard sometimes, but we’ll get through. Together.”

“Together.” Rose fisted his tie, drawing his mouth down to hers for a long moment. “I like the sound of that.”

“Me too.” Her brow was still furrowed though, and he nuzzled her nose again. “What is it? You can say anything. There’s no question too dumb.”

She blinked up from beneath her lashes, looking impossibly young and innocent, and for just a moment he had doubts about dragging her into the chaos of monarchy, but forcefully pushed those feelings aside.

“What do I call you?”

Of all the things he’d been preparing himself for, that wasn’t one. “What?”

“What do I call you?” she repeated, staring at the knot of his tie. “The King? Your Majesty?”

“My name’s Ian,” he said blankly, wrinkling his nose at the thought. “You would use those when speaking _about_ me, but when addressing me, Ian is fine. Though, for you, I think I’d be rather happy to answer to ‘Husband’.”

Rose let out a deep breath, shaking her head slightly before meeting his eye with a determined glint, her smile back. “Okay. We’ll figure it out. For tonight, let’s just celebrate!”

“Oh?” he teased, swaying her slightly to the distant strains of the band, unable to get over how beautiful she looked in the moonlight. “Are we celebrating?”

“Yep!” She popped the ‘p’, making him smile. “Cause guess what? We never have to go on any sort of blind date ever again.”

Ian burst into laughter, shaking his head.

“Now _that_ is something worth celebrating!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for joining me on this lovely journey. I started writing it in late March, and it’s hard to believe that this particular story is over. My beta and I have poured many hours into this story, writing it, editing it, and just plotting! I’m very grateful to all of you who have read it.
> 
> But how can this be then end?! you cry. There’s so much more to the story!
> 
> Well, you’ll be pleased to know that we agree! While it’s still in the early stages, and a ways away, there will be (at least!) one full-length sequel. I won’t go into details at the moment, but I have reasonably-firm plans for the next story, and tentative ones for the third.
> 
> If you’re interested in seeing those when they’re ready to be shared, I recommend subscribing to the Queen of Hearts series on AO3 - once it’s ready, it will be posted both here and there.
> 
> Many heart-felt thanks to those who have been kind enough to leave comments; I am working on replying to them, but please know that they were all read and I was incredibly touched to receive them.
> 
> Thank you!


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